


From Just One Storm

by Muccamukk



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Cruising, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, Implied/Referenced Underage, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized a fucking lot of things, M/M, Poor Life Choices, Pre-Canon, i am not joking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: When Eddie meets a handsome lieutenant the night before deployment, he assumes a quick screw in the park will be the end of things. After that first encounter turns into a night together, Eddie worries that he won't be able to disentangle himself from his growing attachment.
Relationships: Andrew A. "Ack-Ack" Haldane/Edward "Hillbilly" Jones
Comments: 28
Kudos: 56
Collections: Heavy Artillery Rare Pair Exchange 2020





	1. New Zealand. July 1942.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slightlytookish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/gifts).



> Content notes: As mentioned in the tags, this fic contains canon-typical levels of violence, and some racism also typical of canon, and please remember what canon this is. There are references to past underage sex, past sex involving power differences, and past relationships that could be read as abusive/violent. This is all off page, but it's there. There is also consensual sex involving light bondage.
> 
> Thank you so much to Thrillingdetectivetales, my #1 cheerleader and beta reader! I couldn't have done this without you, baby.
> 
> Title from Ferron's "The Return"
> 
> To lay my head on your blessed arm  
> I take my cue from the willow tree  
> For it don't break from just one storm  
> But bends with a strength that keeps it free  
> 

Eddie would like to have said that he hadn't noticed the first lieutenant before their eyes met across the dim bar in Wellington, New Zealand. Problem was, that'd have been a lie.

Even in a sea of attractive young men usually stripped to the waist, all packed onto transports like so many sardines, someone so tall and handsome who moved liked he expected to be followed stood out—no matter that he was in another company. Eddie had seen him, heard his rough voice talking to King's MG platoon, and idly wondered what those big hands would feel like pinning his hips down. Until that moment, when Eddie glanced over, and the lieutenant met and held his gaze, he hadn't thought it more than something to fantasise about as he drifted off in his hammock.

The eye contact was enough to make the lieutenant dip his head and start over. Eddie elbowed the man next to him to make room at the bar, as long as a fellow didn't mind standing hip to hip with his neighbour. Eddie had a feeling the lieutenant wouldn't.

He didn't. He stood with his whole side right up against Eddie's and used the noise of the bar as an excuse to lean in even closer and ask, "What're you drinking, Sergeant?"

Eddie put his arm around the lieutenant's waist, using the same cover of needing to speak with their heads together. "Barkeep's calling it whiskey, sir, but I think he's lying."

The lieutenant laughed, his breath hot and sour with beer. "Want to go somewhere else?" His knuckles brushed across Eddie's thigh to his ass in a way that made it pretty damn clear he didn't mean to another bar.

"Okay," Eddie said. "Park up the road?"

The lieutenant considered, then nodded.

It was the kind of place you paid when you ordered, so all Eddie had to do was toss back his drink, and follow the lieutenant out.

It was winter in New Zealand, and misting a light rain almost cool enough to justify their wool service uniforms. Eddie was still hot around the collar, but that had a lot more to do first with the packed bar, and now with watching the way the lieutenant's waist narrowed to lean hips. He had the kind of easy strength that was the one thing that could really get Eddie in trouble, no matter how much he'd tried to resist the damnable urges. Not that he was doing much in the way of resisting anything on this last night in port. To his shame, he'd gone looking with the intent to succumb.

The lieutenant paused, waiting for Eddie to catch up, then turned up a side street that Eddie remembered leading to the park. Perfect. Eddie fell into step beside him.

"What do they call you, Sergeant?"

So they were doing names then. Well, Eddie liked it when someone said his, and it wasn't like the officer couldn't find out anyway. "Hillbilly, mostly, sir," he said. "Eddie's fine on shore, if you like. What about you? Want me to keep calling you 'sir'?"

The lieutenant cleared his throat before saying, "Andy's fine, ashore."

"Yes, sir."

Even here the lights were muffled, making the streets hard to see, and a partner's expression even harder. Eddie wondered if the lieutenant was the kind of man who'd blush at the suggestion that he might like to toy with the power he had over an NCO, or if he was the kind of man who _would_ toy with the power he had over an NCO.

There was a reason Eddie didn't screw around with officers, or men in the same battalion, but after tonight, he didn't know how much it would matter.

He knew it was naive to think that just because he felt this spark of connection—something more than just lust—with this man that he'd turn out to be kind. Hardly anyone did. It was just a pity Eddie couldn't tell that to his dick. Even walking so near Andy was making his heart race and his skin start to heat with anticipation.

Andy led the way along a gravelled path through the trees, then off it into the bushes. They navigated by sound and by shadow, avoiding the moans of other couples, until it was dark enough that Eddie could only follow the tread of Andy's boondockers, rather than make out as much as his silhouette. Rain dripped from the trees, and the night air smelled clean and fresh, the scent of earth almost strange after so many years at sea.

Eddie found a nice straight tree, smooth barked and sturdy enough to lean against without shaking the forest down, no matter how rough things got. "Reckon this'll do," he said. He stood facing the tree with his legs wide, and considered if he should unbuckle his belt or if Andy would want to be the one to strip him. In the end, he braced his hands against the trunk and when he didn't hear Andy move, added, "Got rubbers and slick in my dungarees, if you don't have any."

Silenced stretched between them, deeper than the darkness under the canopy, and Eddie began to fear that somehow he'd massively misunderstood what Andy had wanted. There didn't seem like there had been any room for ambiguity, not in the way he'd brushed Eddie's leg, or the caress of his lips almost touching Eddie's ear. Unless he was some sort of MP, dressed in plain clothes and about to toss Eddie in the brig for conduct so unbecoming it would undo six years of hard work and care.

"Sir?" Eddie asked, wishing he didn't sound so damn uncertain. He shivered despite the layers of wool surrounding him.

Andy's broad hand cupped the back of Eddie's neck and then ran down his spine, open palmed and possessive. "I told you, Sergeant," he said, with the confidence Eddie had admired shipboard, "it's 'Andy' when I'm ashore."

"Andy," Eddie breathed.

Andy's hand was cupping his ass, and he squeezed lightly before stepping in. He wrapped his arms around Eddie's ribs and pulled their bodies flush against each other. He kissed the back of Eddie's neck, scraping the knobs of his spine with his teeth at the same time as he unbuckled his belt. "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead, huh?"

Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded. "Something like that."

"Okay," Andy told him. He shoved Eddie's dungarees and skivvies down to his thighs and ran his hands up possessively until he could grab Eddie's hips. His hands were just as strong and commanding as Eddie had imagined, and the doubts he'd felt the moment before were replaced with pure desire.

He pushed his ass back against Andy's crotch, shivering as wool rasped against his bare skin. Andy's lips still rested against the back of his neck, pressed into the inch of skin between his hair and collar. He was breathing harder, pulling long breaths through his nose, and for a moment, Eddie wondered if Andy was just going to fuck him dry. His breath caught in fear and a traitorous frisson of excitement, and his stomach tightened.

"Steady, there," Andy whispered, and he ran his hand up Eddie's side, under his shirt. His rough skin dragged across Eddie's ribs, and Eddie almost sobbed at how good it felt to be touched like this.

Andy let go enough to rummage through his pockets, and a moment later slick fingers groped Eddie's ass. They circled his hole, and Eddie let out a long breath and made himself relax as best he could. He was glad that Andy was going to be considerate. He really couldn't afford to risk ending up on the sick roster, not now. He let his head fall forward until his hair brushed the tree trunk, and Andy pushed two fingers inside him at once. It wasn't much of a stretch, not when Eddie'd done this so many times, but the sharp movements still took his breath away. He wriggled his ass against the fingers inside it and against the steely grip on his hipbone, enjoying how Andy's weight was pressing him against the tree. Andy screwing him with just two fingers was enough to make Eddie moan and thrust into nothing, especially with how Andy curled his fingers and dragged them out.

"You know what you're doing," Eddie said, and Andy laughed, a little breathless himself.

"Guess I do," Andy admitted. He let go of Eddie's hip long enough to squeeze more slick over his fingers, and thrust a third one into Eddie. "You like it fast and rough, huh?"

Eddie didn't answer. He did, but he liked what he could get, mostly, and mostly what he could get was like this, or even quicker: grappling in the dark, harsh breathing, rough hands, and then the end, hopefully with both of them satisfied. He'd never wanted to risk a lover, and never seemed to be in port long enough anyhow. It was too dangerous aboard ship.

This was good though. Andy was making sure he was stretched wide and ready, and he wasn't stingy with the lube. His body was warm against Eddie's, his broad shoulders sheltering Eddie from the worst of the drips off the trees. He wasn't quite kissing Eddie's neck any more, but his mouth was still there, a promise that he might, or the promise of teeth, Eddie couldn't tell.

Andy's belt clinked, and Eddie heard him tear a rubber out of the packet, the sound of ripping cardboard loud against the night. Eddie held utterly still, breathing harshly, fingernails biting into the bark. He let out a long, low sigh when Andy pressed into him, almost as if Andy were driving the breath out of him. Andy wasn't cut, and his thick head stretched Eddie so wide he almost squirmed away from the pressure, but he held fast, hands flexing against the tree, and his chest locked tight with emotion. He remembered he needed to breathe right around when Andy's cock started to slide into him more easily. He hoped Andy wasn't the kind of guy who liked filthy compliments or any kind of chat because the intensity of being taken had driven the words right out of Eddie. He hauled in a breath, and the rush of air made his nerves tingle the same as his skin was flushed and sweaty with lust. Andy had both hands on his hips now, holding him fast as he rocked into Eddie's body.

Eddie leaned forward, pressing his face to the bark, and his ass back against Andy, tilting his hips up, needing to take as much of Andy as he could. He spread his legs a little wider and was glad Andy was so tall. That angle was better, and Eddie was pleased when Andy grunted in satisfaction.

Keeping tight hold of Eddie's hips, Andy started to pull out. He thrust shallowly at first, like he was getting a feel for how much give Eddie's body had. Once he was sure of himself, he widened his stance until the toes of his boondockers touched the heels of Eddie's and started to move with swift, powerful drives in and out of Eddie's body. He had the relentless pace of a steam engine, and Eddie couldn't do anything besides hold on and take it. He found himself whispering something against the bark, but it was too broken to make sense even to himself, probably just pleas for more, as if Andy could possibly give more, or not to stop, like he would. Even with the drag of the latex, it felt as if Eddie's body had been made to take Andy's cock. The stretch had eased into a light ache, and the slide of Andy's dick inside him set every nerve in Eddie's body alight. His own dick ached in the cool air, and he longed to reach down and stroke himself off, but he knew how much better it would be if Andy did it, and he didn't think he could let go of the tree and keep his balance at the same time anyway.

"Jesus," Andy muttered, voice quieter than it should have been. He was breathing hard like he'd just come off PT, but his pace hadn't slowed. "Oh, fuck."

Eddie whimpered in response, needing to be touched so badly he couldn't think straight. As perfect as Andy's hold on him was, with Eddie leaning forward, Andy's chest wasn't pressed against his back any more, and he missed the feel of Andy's lips on his neck. Mostly, his dick bounced uncomfortably, and he felt like his skin had gotten too tight for his body. Eddie's scalp prickled with sweat as heat of frustration and desire built inside him. The bark of the tree scraped against his cheek, and squeezing his eyes shut only seemed to make the night around him brighter. He felt as if he could almost come just from the drag of Andy's cock over his prostate, but he needed just a little bit more. Eddie bit the inside of his cheek to keep from begging. Never mind that he was getting screwed in the dark, just his pants open like he was some hustler working the corner, he'd be damned if Andy thought he was weak. That was how they got their hooks into you.

Oh, but Eddie had hoped that Andy would be the kind of screw who would take care of his partner. He'd known better than to expect it, but as Andy's body snapped taut behind him, and he heard Andy's breath catch at the same time as his hands tightened on Eddie's hips and his whole body jerked forward then stiffened, driving Eddie into the tree trunk, as Andy came, Eddie felt a little knot of disappointment in tighten around his heart.

Then, still buried inside him. Andy wrapped his left arm around Eddie's stomach, his fingers spread wide across the bottom of Eddie's rips, and pulled them together again. With Eddie's back held tight against Andy's chest, Andy only had to lean in a little to kiss the perspiration from Eddie's hair. His hand closed around Eddie's cock.

"Oh, goddammit," Eddie moaned, unable to stay silent any more. His body caught fire at the feel of Andy's fingers wrapping around him, not even squeezing or jerking him off yet. He tried to clutch the tree, but the bark was smooth and slippery under his sweaty hands, and Andy had pulled his body away enough that he didn't have much purchase. Andy's hand pulled slowly away from Eddie's body, callouses dragging rough over his dick, and Eddie slapped at the tree. He was whining like a dog, but it felt too good to care. Andy was still inside him, and his strong arms were engulfing Eddie, and there wasn't a single other thing in the world a man could need. "Goddammit," Eddie murmured again, voice breaking.

Andy nipped at the back of Eddie's neck at the same time as he started to stroke faster, making Eddie's chest hitch as he struggled not to cry out. He rocked his hips forward into Andy's hand, chasing the crest of pleasure like swimming after a wave. Eddie let himself get lost in the rough grip on his dick, and the way it seemed to drag sensation out of his whole body, in Andy's wet breath on his neck, and the crushing feel of his arm around Eddie's ribs. Andy was holding Eddy as close as he could, so close their bodies seemed to move as one, and when Eddie tumbled over the edge, shooting come against the bark of the tree, Andy was already holding him up. Eddie clutched at the bark, then patted at Andy's arm, but couldn't seem to get his hands or his mind to commit to any coherent course of action.

Andy stroked his cock until he'd wrung Eddie dry, then raised his arm to wrap around Eddie's chest and pull him even closer. He kept kissing Eddie's neck, and Eddie wasn't sure why. It wasn't like Andy needed to keep being sweet about it all. Maybe Andy wanted to go another round, but Eddie didn't think he had it in him, not like this at least.

Eddie steeled himself and pushed away from the tree, standing up under his own power, and shaking Andy loose. He tucked his dick away and did up his dungarees before patting through his pockets for smokes.

Andy stepped away, his clothes rustling as he put himself to rights. They'd likely go their separate ways now, and Eddie would see him shipboard, but only as a junior officer in another company. Maybe, if they both survived what was to come, they'd find each other in a bar next leave, but Eddie doubted it. It hadn't seemed to work out like that too often when he'd been sea-going, even when he did meet the same men again. It was too bad. He hadn't found someone who'd screw him just like he wanted in a long time.

"Want one?" Eddie asked, as he flicked his lighter and inhaled until the cigarette caught. He pulled in a mouthful of smoke and held it, letting the nicotine settle him. He could use another drink, or maybe just a nap.

The tiny flame of the lighter and the glow of the cherry cast an orange phantom of light on Andy's face. He was looking at Eddie with an oddly considering expression. His eyes flicked down to the carton in Eddie's hand, and he shook his head slightly. "I don't smoke."

Eddie shrugged, a little disappointed that he couldn't hold onto the company for the time it took to burn through a cigarette. He was being sentimental anyway, just putting off the inevitable. "Back to the ship, then?" he asked. That's where they should both be, in reality, but no one was heeding the curfew on a last night in port. They never did.

"I suppose," Andy said, but he didn't sound convinced of it. He sounded like he was still turning something over in his mind. He came to a decision, stepping in closer to Eddie so he could speak low in his ear like he had in the bar. His breath still smelled of beer. "Listen, this might be out of line, and I won't take it hard if you tell me to go to hell, but I was thinking I'd like to get a hotel room. With you."

Eddie stepped back until he bumped into the tree, wanting to get clear of Andy's warmth and scent before he answered. He took another long drag watching the way the ashes flaked and fell instead of looking at Andy's face. He usually tried to stay out of closed spaces with doors that could lock. It was too easy for things to go wrong, and no recourse if they did past fighting his way clear. The man who'd first shown him the ropes, back in West Virginia, had warned Eddie about places where he could lose control, told him parks and bathhouses were safer, at least from that. You could still get caught by the MPs or the police, but they'd raid hotels too.

The hesitation on his face had to be clear, even if only illuminated by his cigarette, but Andy didn't press his case, just stood there with his arms folded, waiting for Eddie to think things through. Maybe he was still leading and expecting to be followed, but he wasn't trying to bribe or sweet talk Eddie into anything he didn't want to do on his own. He'd wrapped his arms around Eddie and held him tight when he couldn't stand. He'd taken Eddie fast and hard, but he hadn't hurt him.

"Okay," Eddie said.

Andy nodded. "Good. That's good."

They groped their way back out to the path, then followed the hill back down towards the docks. Eddie wanted to know more, wanted to know why the handsome lieutenant had chosen him, and why, having gotten what he wanted, he seemed to want more. He wanted to know stupid little details, like where Andy was from, and how he liked his coffee, how long he'd been in the service and how he liked it. Eddie wanted to know the kind of things you'd ask a friend, not someone you let fuck you in the dark. He focused on how his ass felt slippery and stretched open, and didn't let himself ask anything.

It was Andy who broke the silence, glancing over at Eddie in the dark, and asking, "You enlist after Pearl?"

"No, sir," Eddie said, the formality too deeply ingrained to shake. "Thirty six. Was sea-going, before."

Andy whistled. "We must all you seem like puppies to you."

Eddie thought of all the boys in his platoon, each one more eager than the last to prove himself a man, most hardly old enough to shave, every last one secretly terrified that he'd let his buddies and his country down once the bullets started flying. "I ain't seen combat any more than you have," Eddie admitted, "but at least I know how to hold a rifle."

"I expect you know how to do more than that," Andy said, and the sincerity in his voice made Eddie's chest clench. "You're in Item Company, aren't you? Weapons?"

Why did Andy want to know all this? Was he just passing time as they walked, or was there some motive behind it? Still, it wasn't as if he couldn't find out with just a few questions once they were shipboard again. "Was in weapons, but the skipper gave me first platoon now." Eddie figured if he stayed alive very long, he'd be a gunnery sergeant, which would mean almost another twenty dollars a month to send home, and five more on top of that once the pay office worked out he had his six years in. Eddie felt like he should ask a question in reply, but he already knew where Andy served, and didn't have any others that seemed reasonable.

Fortunately they came to a hotel then, and Andy got caught up negotiating a room for them. Eddie watched how easy he was, how confident that he'd get what he wanted from the world, and felt a little spike of envy. Not that Eddie hadn't just built up Andy's idea of himself by falling into his outstretched hand like ripe fruit.

"It's a walk up," Andy said, sounding a little apologetic once he'd paid—in advance, Eddie noticed. "And the latrine's down the hall, but it sounded okay otherwise."

"That's fine," Eddie said. He'd slept in hammocks or barracks for the past six years, occasionally splitting the cheapest possible billet when on shore leave. Staring at Andy's ass as they jogged up two decks of stairs was the least of his worries.

He waited in the hall as Andy unlocked the door, the heavy brass key sticking a little, and wondered again if maybe this was a mistake. In the light of the hallway, Andy was better looking than ever, and Eddie couldn't help but wonder if that had turned his head. What was he doing spending his last night ashore, maybe his last free night of his life, taking a risk like this? The trepidation didn't leave as he followed Andy inside and watched mutely as he locked and bolted the door, then jammed a chair under the handle for good measure. Eddie checked the window, finding that it was too far a drop to risk. He left it jammed open anyway. There was one double bed with a worn quilt tucked in in a way that'd have a marine on latrine duty for a week. Eddie looked at it and then to Andy.

"Sir," he said, then corrected, "Andy."

"Mmm?" Andy asked. He was still jiggling the chair against the handle to make sure it was secure, not looking around.

"Why'd you ask me here?"

Andy turned away from the door and looked at Eddie in unfeigned surprise.

"Besides all that," Eddie said, waving away the sex. "Why me, and why here, not just the park? What's this about?"

Eddie hadn't meant to sound so skittish, but Andy seemed to pick up on his anxiety. He stepped away from the door towards the bed, coming both closer to where Eddie stood by the window and clearing an escape route if Eddie wanted to make a break for it. "I take it you don't have officers asking you to bed with them all that often?"

"Try to avoid officers," Eddie admitted, folding his arms and shifting foot to foot. "Too much trouble, usually. Sir."

"I can see why," Andy said, and smiled in a way meant to cut himself down, but that only put Eddie more on edge.

The key was in the lock, and he could go if he wanted to.

"I'm not doing this right," Andy muttered to himself. He was a big man, but Eddie could see him try to make himself smaller, slouching a little and drawing his shoulders in. He glanced down, and Eddie wondered if this was an act, but couldn't see past the sincerity on Andy's face. He looked young, all of a sudden, younger than Eddie, though they had to be similar ages. "We're likely shipping out tomorrow," he said. "Back on that transport and sailing off to some godforsaken island no one's ever heard of, and facing"—he paused and tucked his hands under his armpits, curling in on himself—"I don't know what, but I don't believe enough of what the Corps taught us to think it won't be bad. I wanted, well, I suppose I wanted a store of good memories to dwell on when it's dark and it doesn't seem like there's going to be much in the way of hope. I wanted to be able to think back and remember a night of romance I spent with a handsome young man, how a man could touch another with something besides hurt. But you didn't sign on to be my fantasy, and I'm sorry to have made you uncomfortable, Eddie. I won't blame you if you decide to leave."

In all that fantastical speech, one word had snagged on Eddie's thoughts, and he worried at it now, trying to unravel the meaning of the whole thing. "Romance," he said, knowing his voice was harsher than it should be. He shook his head. There was no place for all that Hollywood guff in the world of illicit fucking and being fucked that Eddie had found. He liked it well enough in songs, but what was Andy planning to do, get down on one knee and recite poetry?

Andy shook his head mutely, expression closing in as his mouth tightened and his chin dipped even further. He looked gutted by Eddie's single word, and Eddie regretted that. Andy had been nothing but considerate, even if he had some odd notions about how the world worked.

Eddie considered what he'd do if he left. He probably would just go back to the ship. He'd scratched the itch he'd gone to the bar to scratch, and there was no sense risking running into the MPs coming back late. He could sack out in his hammock, and linger over the memories of Andy pushing him up against the tree and drilling him just like he'd wanted. The memory of lips hot on the back of his neck, and arms holding him tight, of being touched with something besides hurt. Like Andy had said, he realised.

Andy was, again, waiting to see what he'd say, rather than trying to press his case, though this time Eddie could see that Andy expected his rejection. Christ, he was handsome, tall and strong, the leading man out of any number of cowboy movies, and he seemed to give a shit what Eddie wanted from him.

The silence had stretched too long, and Andy slumped onto the bed.

Eddie could taste the regret already, and he knew that if he left he'd taste nothing but, for however long his life might last. Making up his mind, he crossed to the bed and settled gingerly on the very edge of it, his shoulder just brushing Andy's.

Andy looked up at him, lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't muster the words.

"What, exactly, do you see this romance of yours including?" Eddie asked.

"I want to look after you," Andy blurted, then licked his lips, and paused to rephrase that. "I want to find out what you like, and do that, and to hold you. I want to kiss you."

That didn't sound so bad, Eddie didn't think. It'd hardly been what he'd been warned to avoid in private rooms. He reached out and tipped Andy's chin up with a crooked finger, then leaned in and touched their lips together. Andy sighed against his mouth like he'd stepped into a hot shower after four days on manoeuvres. He unfolded his arms, and put his hands on Eddie's chest like a girl in the pictures, so Eddie looped his arms around Andy's waist, and kissed him again.

Eddie'd never been much for kissing. It seemed like at most a distraction on the way to something he really wanted, but Andy's mouth felt good against his. He'd tipped his head so that their noses didn't bump, and had parted his lips so that Eddie could fit their mouths together just so. His mouth was so soft, and Eddie felt his fears melt away into the kiss. Now that the contact was made, Andy began to lead again. He grabbed a double handful of Eddie's jacket and held him in place as he moved his lips against Eddie's. He wasn't demanding anything, but exploring what Eddie was willing to offer.

When Eddie opened his mouth to let Andy take more, he did, and when Eddie ran his hands up and down Andy's back, Andy started to unbutton Eddie's jacket. The idea of being laid out naked made Eddie's breath catch, and Andy's hands froze on the buttons of his blouse, but when Eddie didn't say anything else, he resumed, kissing all the while.

Soon, Andy had Eddie's jacket and blouse open and was pushing them off his shoulders. The room was warm and close, but Eddie still felt goosebumps across his shoulders in the wake of Andy's hands brushing over them. He felt flushed and chilled at the same time, like he had a fever, but it was just Andy's lips on his, his hands running up and down Eddie's arms. Eddie groaned against Andy's mouth and leaned closer, seeking the warmth of his body. He wanted to be held again, like Andy had held him before, as he came. He ached for that feeling of strength and protection. He understood that now, and wondered dizzily how long he'd been seeking it, looking for someone who'd hold him down and keep him safe at the same time. Maybe that's what Andy had meant by romance. If that were the case, then Eddie was willing to trade any amount of sex in the world to get it. He would, he decided, even let Andy do the things that he'd feared privacy behind a locked door might lead to.

Now that he had Eddie half naked, Andy pushed them both back onto the bed. His hand came up to cradle the back of Eddie's neck, as if he might hit his head on the way down, even though there was only a soft mattress beneath them. He didn't break the kiss for a moment, and Eddie had started to feel breathless, even though he could get air through his nose just fine. When Andy lifted his head, breaking contact with Eddie's mouth for the first time since the kiss began, Eddie found himself clinging to Andy's jacket, trying to hold him in place. But Andy just wanted to kiss the side of Eddie's face, below his ear, then his neck, then the hollow above his collarbone. He brushed Eddie's hands away, taking his wrists, to hold him down while Andy kissed every part of Eddie's chest. He was moving down towards Eddie's dick, so Eddie let him do as he pleased.

As much as he'd thought that necking could be a distraction on the way to the main act, and risky besides, he was starting to understand the argument for it. Now, he felt as though he'd been skinned, and Andy was kissing bare nerves. Every sensation was magnified, by the feel of Andy's strong hands pinning his wrists, and the way his mouth lingered on Eddie's skin. The scratch of Andy's stubble should have irritated the tender skin of his stomach, but it only made Eddie shiver in anticipation.

And that was before Andy started talking.

"I noticed you," he said. "Shipboard, I noticed you, the way you moved like you were born at sea. So damn graceful, I couldn't take my eyes off you." He paused to unbutton Eddie's fly with his teeth. Eddie had to wonder if Andy's practised that, or if he was just naturally good at everything. "Couldn't believe it when I caught you looking at me in the bar—man I'd been watching all the way from Hawaii—looking at me like I was a hot meal. How lucky can a guy get?" He had to let go of Eddie's wrists to get his belt open, and then Eddie was lifting his hips to let Andy pull his dungarees down again. They came all the way off this time, his skivvies and boondockers with them, until Eddie lay naked save for his dog tags.

It wasn't as if he'd never been naked with another man before. Aside from the Corps driving every sliver of modesty out of a man the second he got to bootcamp, Eddie had been to the bathhouses in San Francisco, and had one or two trysts in the showers as well. This felt different. He lifted his head to watch Andy as he crouched at the foot of the bed, and saw Andy looking back at him, grey eyes shining with affection. Andy ran his hands up Eddie's legs, rubbing the hair backwards, his touch electric. Eddie's cock was stiffening, even though it hadn't been more than half an hour since he'd come so hard he could hardly see. He wondered if Andy would suck him off, or just screw him again, and decided that he didn't care which. Eddy spread his legs, bending his knees so that he was on display for Andy and absolutely ready for whatever he wanted to do.

"Think—" Eddie had to clear his throat and wet his lips. "Think I'd like you better with your clothes off."

"Think I would too," Andy agreed. He slid off the bed and started to shuck off his clothes. He got as far as his blouse before he looked down at Eddie watching him and suddenly grinned. Andy cocked his hip and undid the next few buttons more slowly, teasing with the inch by inch reveal of his skin. When he had them all undone, he turned away from Eddie, and rolled his shoulders so that the shirt dropped away and slid down his back, even though his arms were still in the sleeves. He had beautiful broad shoulders, skin tanned from hours shirtless in the sun, and Eddie was glad that the lights were still on so that he could see how the flush of desire spread down Andy's neck and across his upper back. He turned and flipped the blouse off one arm, sending it flying into the far wall. He was still grinning, but there was something shy in his eyes as he looked down and made a show of unbuttoning his fly. His cock was tenting out his skivvies, and Eddie wanted to suck it through the thin cotton, wanted to run his hands up Andy's chest, wanted to go back to kissing him. He couldn't help smiling at Andy's little show, especially not when he bent over to unlace his boondockers and wiggled his ass in Eddie's direction. He pulled his skivvies off as he stood, and kicked them in the same direction as the shirt before climbing back on the bed.

"Now," he said, "Where were we?"

Eddie reached up and rested his palm over Andy's heart. He liked how hairy Andy's chest was, how much he felt like a man, not one of the puppies too young to shave. "I think you were about to fuck me again," Eddie informed him.

Andy crawled to kneel between Eddie's spread legs and put his hands on Eddie's shoulders, pinning him to the bed as he leaned in for another kiss. He was the kind of handsome they put on posters, and even their dicks brushing together as Andy's lips touched Eddie's wasn't as distracting as it should be. The spike of pleasure from the slide of skin on skin felt damn good, but it couldn't seem to cut past the pain in Eddie's chest. He felt like he had a knot in his heart, and he couldn't seem to breathe right. He buried his hands in Andy's chestnut hair and held on while Andy kissed him.

"Was I going to fuck you?" Andy asked, his lips just a hair's breadth from Eddie's. "Or was I going to suck you off, or keep kissing every part of you until you come just from the feel of my lips on your skin?"

He kissed Eddie's throat again, and Eddie pictured another slow descent over his body, each touch of Andy's lips like a brand. He could come just from that, he thought. He lifted his hips to rub his cock against Andy's, and the contact made Andy gasp against Eddie's neck.

He didn't want to have to choose, so Eddie said, "I wanna do all of those." It seemed greedy to want pleasure that much and not offer anything in return, so he added, "whatever you want," and felt a thrill of fear at the blank cheque he'd offered. He'd keep his word though. He'd never been very good at saying no, even when he should.

He'd said the wrong thing. Andy dropped his hands to the quilt and pushed himself up so that he could study Eddie's face from a distance that put it in focus. "But what do _you_ want, Eddie?"

Eddie had known at the start of the night, and he'd gotten what he'd wanted then, but he didn't know if that answer would fit now. He wanted to be held down and screwed until he didn't feel like himself any more, no matter how filthy it all was. He wanted to wring every drop of pleasure out of the encounter, and he wanted to use his body to please his partner. He wanted Andy's arms around him again. He wanted Andy to keep touching him, and never stop. He didn't want to have to explain any of that. If this talking business was Andy's idea of romance, then he could keep it.

Wrapping his legs around Andy's hips, Eddie pulled their bodies together until the tip of Andy's cock was pressed against his ass. He still had his hands buried in Andy's hair, and it was easy to pull his head down and whisper into his ear, "What do you think I want?"

"Okay, okay," Andy said, and rolled out of Eddie's grip to find a condom and more slick.

He was so careful with Eddie when he opened him up again, and more careful still as he fucked him slowly into the bed. Andy kept kissing Eddie, and looking down at him as though he were the one who thought himself lucky to get the chance at some prize. Andy's hands seemed to touch every part of Eddie as they made love, until Eddie had to close his eyes and turn his face away. When Andy's eyes darkened with lust, they turned the blue-grey of a battleship hull, and Eddie couldn't stand the possessiveness in them.

Andy was taking him in slow even strokes this time, lingering over Eddie's body, but he had a ferocity wound up into his expression that ran against the gentleness of his hands.

Eddie couldn't seem to let go of Andy's hair. The silkiness of the strands, the buzz of stubble against his palms along the back of his neck. He was glad Andy kept kissing him, because he didn't think he'd be able to stand words just then. Even without them, he came just from the feel of Andy inside him, shooting between their bodies as Andy slowly screwed him.

The best part was after, when Andy pulled out and wiped them off with his handkerchief. Eddie lay in stunned lassitude, his body limp with pleasure, but Andy got them both under the covers and wrapped his body behind Eddie's. It was like it had been in the park, when he'd held Eddie upright, but this time they were both lying cuddled up in a bed softer than Eddie had felt in too long to remember, their sweaty bodies beginning to stick together. Andy kissed the back of his neck again and Eddie spread his hands over Andy's, groping until their fingers interlaced.

Eddie could feel sleep tugging him down, but the edge of anxiety kept him awake. He still didn't know what Andy expected of him. Would he want Eddie to stay awake and keep having sex? Eddie wasn't opposed to it in theory, but the temptation of sleep outweighed his earlier promise to do anything and everything Andy wanted. It seemed like he couldn't even keep to his own wantonness.

"M sorry," Eddie mumbled. He pushed back against Andy, his ass rubbing Andy's slack cock, but didn't have the will to put any enthusiasm behind it.

"It's okay," Andy told him. His arm tightened around Eddie's chest, muscles tensing and coiling against Eddie's skin. All that strength just to hold Eddie close. "You can sleep, if you like."

"Just a nap," Eddie promised, yawning. "Then I'm all yours." As he drifted off, he vaguely considered telling Andy he could use Eddie while he slept, but the idea unsettled him, and made his dreams murky with uncertainty.

Eddie woke a few hours later with Andy's dick hard against his ass. He'd been awake for a while, but hadn't moved until Eddie did. Eddie shifted around so that they could suck each other off at the same time, making such a tangle of the sheets that they had to get up after and remake the bed.

They made it so taut between them that any drill sergeant in the Corps could have bounced a silver dollar off of it. Then Andy tackled Eddie, and pulled it all apart as they rolled on top of each other, Eddie ending up straddling Andy through some dirty trick he'd picked up years ago. Andy kept smiling at Eddie, and the knot in Eddie's chest cinched tighter. He leaned down and kissed Andy, and then collapsed on top of him. Andy wrapped his arms around Eddie and kept kissing him. Their mouths tasted of come, but Eddie couldn't bring himself to care.

Neither had the energy for another round, but Eddie didn't feel sleep pulling at him this time either. They eventually ended up back under the covers, with Andy on his back and Eddie sprawled half across him, his head on Andy's chest. Andy rubbed up and down his back, scratching circles with his nails.

"Where are you from?" Andy's chest buzzed under Eddie's ear as he spoke, and Eddie was so taken with the sensation that he almost forgot that he was supposed to answer.

"Around and about," Eddie said, giving his usual answer, but then decided that he wanted to offer Andy the truth. "Born in Maryland, but my family ended up in West Virginia. Pa worked in the mines, till he got black lung. I'm the oldest, and the company wanted me to go down in his place, but Ma wouldn't stand for me leaving school, and after that I signed up instead. Suppose it was selfish; pay's not so good, but..." Eddie had never had the stomach for the black of the mines, a hundred times more crushing than the hold of any ship. "Send everything I can home to Ma. 'Cept nights like these."

"When you can't stand being alone any more?" Andy asked.

Eddie shook his head without quite knowing what he was denying. Years at sea with only the occasional leave when he had the money and opportunity to go home, no prospects of marriage, even after he mustered out. Eddie supposed that some men would call that being alone, but he never had. "Have my boys," he said. "My platoon, I mean, and the other fellows who came in before the war. I get along easy, and ain't never been short on friends."

"I didn't say you were." Andy kissed his hair, and Eddie melted a little against his chest, just from the sound of his voice. Andy was placating him, but Eddie didn't care. He could say all the sweet, meaningless things he liked. Eddie would soak them all in.

"What about you?" Eddie asked. "You lonely?"

"I have my platoon," Andy echoed. "Other officers; hell one fellow I went to college with signed up with me and ended up assigned to the same regiment."

"But he wasn't in that bar with you," Eddie stated. He had seen the absence of connections around Andy. He'd come to the bar by himself with a purpose. The purpose had turned out to be Eddie, but that only made Eddie wonder all the more.

"No." Andy thought for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. His hand stilled on Eddie's back, fingers spreading and curling around Eddie's ribs. "I suppose every so often a man needs to be in company with his own kind."

Eddie had trouble seeing himself and Andy as the same kind of anything, but he supposed it made some sense. Andy had wanted someone to fuck, and then someone to play house with, though the why of that second one still troubled Eddie. He'd found someone willing to go along, and maybe that was like enough to one's own kind. For all that it didn't feel like the relentless need that sucked Eddie into the parks and teahouses time and time again. Eddie couldn't imagine someone like Andy suffering the same spine-tingling shame of it all. Andy could fuck a stranger against a tree, and then call it romantic.

But Eddie couldn't ask about any of that, not without offering too much of himself up. Besides that, he didn't want Andy to think that Eddie could be ashamed of him, not when Andy had tried to be so kind, and to put Eddie at ease, not when he was running his knuckles up and down Eddie's spine until he started to drift back to sleep. So Eddie didn't answer that, and didn't ask Andy where he was from, or what he'd gone to college for, or what he hoped to do if he survived the war. It would all be over in the morning, anyway. Andy would go back to K Company, Eddie to his own boys, and aside from seeing each other in formation and in passing, it would be the end. Andy would have his memories stored against a rainy day, and Eddie would fall back into his old habits.

In the morning, none of this would matter any more.

He fell asleep against Andy's chest, lulled but the gentleness of Andy's hand on his back.

Habit woke them both an hour before they were due on ship. Eddie still lay sprawled across Andy, whose hand had ended up on Eddie's ass. When Eddie raised his head, he saw that Andy was watching him. Though the room was dim, Eddie could still make out the small, fond smile on Andy's face, and the amusement in the lines around his eyes.

"Don't want to go," Eddie muttered, dropping his face back to Andy's chest.

Andy pressed his nose into Eddie's hair and drew in a long breath—lifting Eddie's body as he inhaled—before he said, "I know, but we have to."

Eddie thought of all the stupid, eager boys in his platoon and sighed. As much as he wished that he could keep this fairytale wrapped around him for even a few hours more, he couldn't. He had duty to country, and more importantly duty to his men, and Andy had to feel that all the more. For the barest second, Eddie resented that Andy would put his men first, even though Eddie was doing the same, even though Andy had no reason to include Eddie anywhere at all on his list of priorities.

"I think we just about have time for another round," Andy told him, and he squeezed Eddie's ass, pulling their bodies together. They were both starting to get hard again just from proximity. "What do you want to do?"

"I, uh—" Eddie's mind flashed back over the night before, all the ways they'd touched each other, all the kinds of pleasure Andy was offering him. It wasn't that he'd never had a partner that had asked him that, but he'd never been faced with such a scope of possibility, especially not when he wanted all of it, wanted most of all to be able to stop time. Andy was reaching between Eddie's legs to play with his balls, and it was impossible to think. He wanted to tell Andy, again, that he would do whatever Andy wanted to try, but in the end, he wanted one last memory even more. "Could you,"—he hesitated, trying to choose his language, not wanting to sound ugly or crude, even though that's what he wanted above all things—"I liked what we did in the park," he admitted, "liked it that you didn't go so easy on me. I want to be able to feel it, after, and remember. But if you don't want to, we can..."

"Hush," Andy whispered and wrapped his arms around Eddie's back, tightening his embrace until neither of them could breathe. "I asked you what you wanted. Here." He rolled them both over sideways so that he could climb out from under Eddie. "Kneel up for me, okay? Hold onto the bedstead."

Andy got out of the bed, and Eddie rolled over so that he could grip the brass bedstead with both hands. He'd spread his knees as far apart as he could when Andy turned the light on, exposing Eddie's body to the electric glare of the lamps. Eddie flushed, knowing what he must look like, but it only made him harder.

When Andy knelt on the bed at Eddie's shoulder, he'd found both of their ties and his own belt. He took one of Eddie's hands and wrapped the smooth fabric around and around his wrist until only the tails were left, then did the same with the other tie and the other wrist. A few knots bound them together with enough space to loop the belt around the bars of the bed and secure Eddie's wrists firmly to it.

Eddie's body swam with lust. He'd never allowed anyone to do this to him, and fear tugged at him. Andy could do anything he wanted to Eddie now, and there was no way to fight back. But, at the same time, it felt like when Andy had taken Eddie's wrists in his strong hands and pinned them down. It felt secure in a way that was synonymous with protection, with safety. Andy ran his finger down Eddie's spine, and Eddie shivered under his touch. His mouth was already hanging open, and it was easy for Andy to lift his chin and kiss him deeply. Andy's mouth was claiming and possessive in a way that it hadn't been before, and Eddie whimpered against it, but gave way. Andy thrust his tongue into Eddie's mouth, fingers tightening on his chin.

Eddie didn't know if he'd ever been this hard, and Andy'd hardly touched him. He whined and dropped his head when Andy broke the kiss, and again when Andy went to kneel between his legs and slide his fingers into Eddie's ass. He didn't really need to have bothered. They'd fucked enough times that night that Eddie was already slick, and he wanted the stretch anyway.

When he heard Andy rustling through a box of rubbers, Eddie took a sharp breath, and debated asking for one more thing. He wasn't sure he had a right to it, but Andy had wanted him to say what he liked.

"I ain't been with no one else since San Diego," Eddie said, and the sound of his voice made Andy still, "and I ain't sick, so far as I can tell. If you want to... well, I wouldn't mind if you... if I could feel something of you inside me all day."

"Fuck," Andy breathed, almost too soft for Eddie to hear, and Eddie fell silent. He shouldn't have asked. He knew some men were particular about always using condoms, and it was a practical outlook, though they hadn't used them when they'd sucked each other off earlier. Then he felt Andy's hand on the small of his back, moving in the same soothing strokes from the night before. "No, no," he said. "I have a hard time keeping up with you, is all."

Eddie wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he heard the carton drop to the bed, and a moment later felt the easy slide of Andy's bare cock into his ass, so much smoother than it was with the latex between them. Andy took Eddie's hips in his hands, took a deep breath, and proceeded to fuck him with every ounce of force and depth Eddie had imagined possible. The bands around his wrists held him tight as Andy's thrusts rocked the bed. Eddie didn't even try to tug away, just held onto the bedstead and relaxed into the feeling of being possessed. He loved this, no matter if it was wrong, and he loved Andy for giving it to him.

"Goddammit," Eddie muttered as Andy came inside him. He should have been more careful. Andy's hair was dripping sweat on his back, and the band in Eddie's chest clenched too tight to breathe, like Andy had bound his ribs as well as his hands. He shouldn't have let Andy talk him into this room, into his bed, let him talk his way into... Damn, Eddie was losing his grip.

Andy was kissing Eddie's back, still holding his hips, and not stroking Eddie's cock at all. He'd thought he would come just from the feel of Andy inside him, but it hadn't quite been enough to push him over the edge. If his hands had been free, Eddie would have reached down and done the job himself, letting Andy rest his forehead on Eddie's back and drape across his body. They could rest together like that, then, with Andy still inside him, and both of them sated for the moment. For one last time before they went to war.

Eddie grunted and tugged at the belt, but it didn't have enough give in it, and he couldn't get enough purchase to pull the buckle around to where he could undo it.

His fumbling did rouse Andy, who disappointingly neither stroked Eddie off or stayed inside him. Instead, he rolled off of Eddie, and then nudged him until he was lying on his back, wrists still bound to the bed. The twisted belt bit into his arm, and Eddie tried not to wince, but Andy noticed and fixed it anyway. He redid the buckle, and then checked Eddie’s fingers, before sucking on them one by one. The way he rolled his tongue over the pad of Eddie's thumb made him think of nothing more than sucking each other off before. Eddie lay on his back like a turtle, trapped by the bonds on his wrists, the blinding need shimmering through his body, and the weight of Andy's attention.

He lay still as Andy kissed the insides of his arms, and then his mouth. He'd never been with someone so interested in kissing, or maybe he'd never just given anyone the chance to try it. He didn't know how it felt, other than good and not enough at the same time. Even Andy's rough hands following his mouth down Eddie's body wasn't enough. His whole being throbbed with how much he wanted to come, and each time Andy touched him, it only made it worse. He cried out against Andy's mouth as Andy rubbed up and down the insides of his arms, and gladly sucked on Andy's fingers when the trail of kisses worked down to his chest. He could taste his own sweat on them, salty and bright.

When Andy began to kiss his stomach, and pulled his hands free of Eddie's mouth so that he could toy with his nipples, Eddie finally broke. "You don't need to go to so much bother." He almost said, "sir" but left it off at the last second. "You can just put your hand on my dick, and I'll come just fine."

Instead of hurrying him on, the words made Andy stop what he was doing and crawl back up the bed to hover over Eddie. He looked concerned. "Do you want me to stop?"

Did Eddie want him to stop? "No," he said, and even the single word half stuck in his throat. "Just..."

"First thing, it's no bother," Andy told him he put his hands on Eddie's shoulders and squeezed enough to make him feel it. "I'm doing this because I like it. Secondly, if it were a bother, have you ever thought that you might be worth it?"

Eddie closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at the sincerity filling Andy's face. His throat closed too tight to breathe, and he almost seemed to drift away from his body for a moment. Only the relentless need of his cock and Andy's steady hands on his shoulders held him in place. He couldn't possibly answer, couldn't even speak, so he stayed still and let Andy go back to what he was doing.

Andy read the surrender correctly, but didn't go back to toying with Eddie's body either. The bed creaked, and a moment later Andy's mouth was hot on Eddie's cock, and his hand was stroking Eddie's balls. Eddie came in seconds, trying to bury his cry against the inside of his arm. He wished he could run his fingers through Andy's hair one last time. He wished more than anything that this wouldn't be the last time.

Surely they'd have to rush, if they were going to make the ship. Eddie didn't know how much time had passed, but it must be close to the balance of the hour. Andy didn't seem to be in any hurry though. He kept lapping at Eddie's cock until he was entirely spent, and then he kissed his stomach, and then his mouth again, before finally turning to the belt.

When he got his hands free, the first thing Eddie did was sink his hands in Andy's hair and pull him down for another kiss. They were both soaked in perspiration and would be better off showering before showing up aboard ship, but Eddie didn't want to wash the traces of this morning off his body. He wanted to hold on to as much as he could, for as long as he could.

"Eddie," Andy said gently, brushing his knuckles across Eddie's cheekbone. "We have to go."

"Yeah, I know," Eddie mumbled, but he didn't get up. He lay as though still bound and watched as Andy dressed. His body ached from being fucked hard twice in one night, along with all the other things they'd done, and from weeks of drills, and from not enough sleep, but none of that accounted for the clench in his chest as he watched Andy layer back into his Marine greens. It felt almost like dread, but that wasn't quite right either.

"Come on." Andy bent over Eddie and tugged his tie off Eddie's wrist. It was a crumbled mess, but so was most of both their uniforms. They'd change into dungarees aboard ship anyway. When Eddie still didn't move, Andy kissed him again, just a light brush of lips on lips, as though he were Sleeping Beauty's prince.

Eddie blinked. His naked wrist felt cold, and he wanted the feel of Andy holding it back. He wanted a fucking lot of things he suspected he was never going to get. As Andy turned to the mirror above the dresser, trying his best to fix his tie, Eddie rolled to his feet and dressed as quickly as he could. His appearance was a mess, but he didn't have his shaving kit with him, and he probably wouldn't have enough time shipboard to fix himself up. There was only so much spit combing could do to curls. He focused on making his uniform just so, and not looking at Andy, or even acknowledging he was in the same room. Eddie left his tie bound around his wrist. From the little fray in the edge, he could tell it had originally been Andy's not his own. Left like that, it looked like he was binding a wound.

When they were both dressed, they stood facing each other in front of the door.

"Well," Eddie said. He made himself look Andy in the eye, but couldn't think of a damn thing to say. All his usual flippant farewells felt like dust in his mouth, but he thought anything more sincere would be unwanted.

Andy traced Eddie's cheekbone with the back of his knuckles. "Thank you," he said, words so simple and honest that they were impossible to answer. Eddie stood still as a rock, and just as silent. Andy licked his lips, a little uncertainty creeping back into his expression for the first time since Eddie had asked him why they were there. "Eddie," he murmured, then seemed to come to himself, and looked Eddie in the eyes. "Don't ever think you're not worth the time it takes to be kind. And don't ever be ashamed of what we are."

Eddie looked away, and Andy dropped his hand. "Don't think there's much in the way of... of things that're the same between me and you, sir."

Unable to stand whatever Andy might say in reply to that, Eddie turned and left, not looking back until he was on the gangway to the troopship. He'd double timed it back, and couldn't see Andy behind him.

When he got back to his hammock, he dug out his shaving kit. They were to fall out in a few minutes, but Eddie would have to do the best he could. His men would look to him to set an example, and he couldn't show any hint that his ass was sloppy with come after bending over and begging someone to fuck him so hard it hurt. He would be Sergeant Hillbilly Jones, as crisp and shipshape as any Marine could be outside of dress blues.

He didn't let himself notice, until he got on deck for inspection that he still had Andy's tie wrapped around his left wrist.


	2. Guadalcanal. August to December 1942.

Andy's name, Eddie soon learned, was First Lieutenant Andrew A. Haldane. His boys called him Ack-Ack after his initials, though there was a running joke that they wouldn't be surprised if he could shoulder an eighty-eight on his own power, by confidence and determination if not strength alone. He was immensely popular with his boys, and had been some kind of football star back home. Not that Eddie was paying more attention to K Company gossip than he should be, just that it was hard not to hear things on a small ship.

Especially when that ship neither sailed when it was supposed to, nor let the restless marines back on shore, and when it did sail, kept delaying. They spent a few days on manoeuvres, and a few more at sea before finally setting off for an island no one had heard of and few could pronounce.

All through their long days at sea, Eddie's gaze drifted towards Andy, watching as he joked with his boys, rough housed with the other young officers, did his duty flawlessly and with good humour. Not once did Eddie catch Andy looking back at him. Andy, it seemed had gotten his storehouse of good memories, and pushed his lover out of his mind. A guy like that had probably left a trail of broken hearts behind him, and had a girl waiting for him back home besides. Hell, he probably had half a dozen girls on the hook. He spent a lot of time writing letters.

Eddie hated that he couldn't look at Andy and not see him flushed and smiling and in Eddie's bed. He hated that Andy didn't seem to give a good goddamn about Eddie. He was very close to hating Andy on the whole, but couldn't quite bring himself to it. Not when there was a better, closer target.

There was also the island, which first appeared as a smear of clouds on the horizon the evening before, but in the morning stood off the port side as an expanse of jungle-coated hills. Clouds and smoke from the Navy's bombardment stuck to the ridges and drifted down over the beach. Eddie was pretty sure he was going to wind up hating that island too, and that he might as well get a start on it now.

They were all on deck, waiting for their turn to climb down the nets into the Higgins boats. Eddie checked his equipment again, then ran through his boys, making sure they were all in good order. It was better to focus on details than to speculate, better to make sure that they'd be able to keep to their training because everything was ready than to imagine what it would be like when bullets were flying and shells were exploding all around them. The kids kept looking at Eddie like they thought he had any idea. Eddie who'd spent six years in the Marines and never fired a shot outside of a rifle range was supposed to lead them all under real fire. Well, at least he looked like he knew what he was doing.

They'd reached the point where checking anything again would only make the boys more nervous, and they were still at least two boats back from deploying. Eddie leaned back against the rail and let his eyes drift over the deck. King Company was lined up to go after Item, and Andy was talking seriously with his platoon, a smile here, a pat on the shoulder there. Eddie thought about what those hands felt like pinning his shoulders to the bed, and looked away.

"Song to pass the time?" he asked his LT, who shrugged. The kid was all of twenty-two, and looked like he was about to throw up on his own boondockers. Eddie hoped the splatter didn't hit him, if he did. "San Antonio Rose?" Eddie asked, and a couple of the Yankees laughed, while the Southern boys looked pleased.

It passed the time, and Eddie kept up one song after another until they were in the boats, and nearly at the beach. Unopposed landing. Now, there was something to sing about.

* * *

Eddie spent most of the next month fighting mosquitoes, damp, hunger and low morale, and next to none of it fighting the Japanese. They'd set up along one side of a swampy, meandering river and the enemy had set up along the other, and Third Battalion hadn't moved much from there in weeks.

"Patrol," Lieutenant Wilkins said. "Hillbilly, put a squad together."

"Yes, sir."

Captain Wells liked patrols, liked showing that they could control both banks of the river if they wanted to, liked most of all not just sitting on the line waiting to get shelled. It meant that the boys from Item saw a lot more action than those in King, whose captain liked the inside of his tent above all else. Eddie would have resented the unequal treatment—should have resented that his boys had to face more danger than anyone in K Company—but at the same time he was glad Andy was _safe_ , or safe as any of them were with a daily choice between starvation, malarial mosquitoes and bombardments.

Eddie rechecked his gear, then stood, calling out the names of eight men he thought were in good enough shape to go out. So many of his platoon were in the hospital for one thing or another. The malaria ward was overflowing to the point where they had started sending men back to their foxholes to suffer there.

"Kaplan, you're lead scout," Eddie said, "Wolchuck, tail-end Charlie, everyone else, fall in. We're going hunting, boys."

That was met with a general mutter that they'd better not find anything, which Eddie pretended not to hear.

They crossed the creek with their rifles high port, soaked boots no wetter than they'd been when they'd been on the US side. Eddie didn't remember the last time his feet had been dry. It'd likely been before they'd landed. He'd fallen in second after the lead scout, and focused on moving without making a sound. They crept forward one careful step at a time—put your boondocker down as lightly as you could, listen for a sound, shift your weight forward, take the next step, keeping your head on the swivel at all times. A man couldn't see more than the length of his arm through the foliage, and if you didn't keep the back of the man ahead of you in sight, you could lose sight of the whole patrol.

Eddie had heard that a patrol from First Battalion had gone out and never come back, and they didn't know if the Japs had gotten it, or the 'gators, or if they'd just gotten too lost to find.

Kaplan was cutting a wide circle to the north to get around the roots of a tree bigger than the house Eddie had grown up in. A man could set a tarp between each root and make himself a nice little bivouac in the crevasse. Half a platoon could hide in there, too. Eddie followed, and McInnis followed him, stepping on a branch hard enough to snap it and make them all freeze.

A bird screeched high above them, sounding like a rusty hinge, but Eddie didn't hear another sound after that. All the birds here sounded strange and looked stranger. He hadn't worked out what their cries meant, not like he knew the cardinals and mockingbirds back home.

"Sorry, Sarge," McInnis whispered, his voice barely a breath. Eddie nodded.

Kaplan began to move again.

The rest of the patrol made sure to step around the branch. Eddie couldn't hear anything past the faintest rustle of his dungarees and his own breath, shallow and afraid.

They were all afraid, and had been since they'd first seen this damned island. Eddie did his best not to let the boys see, but he worried that sometimes his mask slipped.

Another bird cried, this one closer and softer.

If Eddie listened carefully enough, he thought he could hear his own heartbeat. He took another step, shifted his weight forward, listened.

A single shot rang out behind Eddie, making the whole string of them whip around, rifles at their hips. Eddie couldn't see a damn thing except green leaves and the trunk of that giant tree. He waved Kaplan back towards the patrol, and gestured for McInnis to stay put and watch their six.

Someone screamed, and Eddie couldn't tell if the voice was American or Japanese, but knew the second shot wasn't a Springfield.

Caution abandoned, they ran back the way they'd come. Eddie rounded the bowl of the tree in time to see Lieutenant Wilkins go down, his Thompson sub machine gun spraying bullets in an ascending arc as he did, but before Eddie could pick out a target, McInnis fired. He kept firing until he'd expended the clip, and patted his pockets for another.

"Hold there," Eddie told him, hoping the words got through. He'd seen the figure in green fatigues go down, and hoped to God it wasn't friendly fire. The branches were moving like another had vanished into the jungle, but that could be anything, a retreating soldier, a snake, a ricocheted shot.

He went to Wilkins first, but his chest was blown right open, shirt a darkened mess of blood and lungs. Eddie ran at a crouch to the next figure, and knew even before he pulled him onto his back that he wasn't one of theirs. The Japanese soldier was also dead, blood still seeping from his chest and throat. His face was smooth and unlined by age, still, almost peaceful. Eddie stared at the wide brown eyes, seeing the face of an enemy soldier for the first time. He made himself look away, taking in the jungle around him.

Two dead confirmed, but how many more? How many more of the enemy lurking behind the impenetrable foliage? Eddie didn't know. He had to focus on protecting the men he had left. They weren't fifteen minutes away from the creek if they hopped it. Eddie closed his eyes, took a breath, and patted through the soldier's pockets until he found his pay book for S2. He went back for Wilkins' dog tags, regretting that he couldn't bring his body back to camp. There was no way to drag dead weight through the undergrowth by himself, with only two men on guard.

Dead weight. There would be others, besides. Eddie needed to go now before it was the rest of them. He needed to think. Jesus, Wilkins chest was a mess. Eddie had gotten blood all over his hands just taking his tags. He made himself go through Wilkins pockets, stripping him of weapons so that the enemy wouldn't get them. Wilkins hadn't been carrying any papers. Good boy.

Eddie slung his Springfield and took the Thompson, before gesturing Kaplan back to point. The kid was white as a sheet, and Eddie thought he could hear his teeth chattering, but he did what he was told. "Quick time," Eddie whispered to him, and Kaplan nodded.

He made it five feet back the way they'd come before Eddie heard a stifled shriek, and rushed forward. Kaplan was standing with his rifle aimed at the ground and his fingers in his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. He was starting to tear up, and Eddie needed to think of something to say before he started screaming.

Tierney lay on the ground at his feet, his face as still as if he were sleeping, his throat slit from ear to ear. He and Kaplan had been buddies.

Had been. Eddie knew then that they'd do this for one boy after another, all the way back to Wolchuck. They were all dead. Everyone except the three of them at the front of the line. If Wilkins hadn't got that warning shot off, it'd have been all of them.

Eddie didn't have time to worry about that. He put his hand on Kaplan's shoulder, trying to remember if he liked to be called Jim or Jimmy. He should know that. He couldn't even remember the kid's nickname; it was something like "Socks."

"Son," he said, making his voice as level and even as he could. Kaplan's head jerked up, but he was looking through Eddie, not at him. "Jimmy, listen to me. We're gonna get out of this, back to the creek, but I need your help. I need you to keep watch over me for a minute. Rifle up. Remember your training."

Kaplan nodded jerkily, eyes still glassy, but it was good enough for a start. Eddie knelt next to Tierney, trying not to see his throat as he felt for his tags. His name had been Bobbie, but the boys called him Gene because of the actress, no matter how many times he'd said he wasn't related. Why could Eddie remember that, and not Kaplan's nickname? He had a letter from home on him, which Eddie pocketed, blood soaking into the red and blue border. He wasn't going to be able to take all these weapons back. He took the bolt out of the Springfield to disable it, and left the weapon in the kid's hands. He'd been a good boy, who'd died holding his rifle.

Eddie didn't know if he could do this five more times.

Well, it didn't matter. He had to. He had two men left, and it was his duty to get them back safe, just like it'd been his duty to look after the whole patrol, like it was his duty to at least take the dog tags back to Captain Wells.

Eddie stood, deciding that he better take point from now on. He didn't think Kaplan could take another shock like that.

They made their grim way back to the creek, finding body after throat-slit body. Wolchuck had bought it not ten yards into the jungle, ten yards from being safe.

"They must have been waiting for us," Eddie murmured, but fortunately Kaplan and McInnis didn't hear. Louder, he said, "Almost there, boys."

"Sarge, couldn't we..." McInnis started to ask, but Eddie was shaking his head already. It was so near the river, but he wouldn't risk bringing Wolchuck with them. Hopefully the skipper would authorise a recovery mission. Hopefully the bodies hadn't been hacked all to bits or eaten by 'gators by the time they got back. If they went back at all.

Eddie's mind struggled for the password, but he called it across the creek before they broke cover, and then he was safe under the cover of his old MG squad. The bathwater-warm creek water splashed around his thighs, washing the blood out of his dungarees, leaving dark trails in the sluggish current.

Lieutenant Cook from weapons looked at the three of them, opened his mouth, closed it, and just waved them past towards the CP. Eddie was grateful for it. He didn't think he had more than one telling of this in him.

Even as he reported to Captain Wells, it was though he was hearing the words spoken by someone else, someone on the other end of scratchy phone line. He caught phrases: "Got the Lieutenant." "Slit their throats, sir." "Didn't hear a damn thing." He knew he was the one speaking, and that the words represented what he'd done, but he couldn't seem to make the parts fit as a whole.

The blood on his hands was drying, starting to flake off. He rubbed at it, seeing but not seeing the way it caught in the lines and creases of his hand. Funny how you couldn't tell the blood of one man from that of another.

The skipper was saying something, but Eddie wasn't sure what. He felt dizzy and reached for the tent's support post, but missed it and staggered. Captain Wells took his elbow, and Eddie let himself be guided into a seat, just an up turned crate really. It creaked under him, sounding a bit like one of those high forest birds. Had the bird been trying to call out some kind of warning?

"I'm sorry, Skip," Eddie muttered, even if he couldn't begin to say what for, or rather, the list was too long to contemplate, or maybe it just had seven things on it, seven names, and Eddie didn't want to think of them. It felt like a dishonour not to name them. "I'll be able to help bring them back, if you'll just give me a minute."

"That won't be necessary, Sergeant," Wells said. He crouched in front of Eddie, putting a hand on his knee. "I'll send second out, keep first on covering fire."

"Aye, Skipper," Eddie said. That made sense. First platoon didn't have the strength any more, not after. They'd been Eddie's best men, and Wilkins had been... Wilkins had been a good boy, not bad for an officer. He'd saved them. Eddie tried to remember if he'd told Wells that. It should be in his report. Wilkins's family should know.

Eddie started to push himself back to his feet, but Wells' hand on his knee kept him where he was. It shouldn't have; Eddie should have been able to push past it and go back to his duty, but it felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds.

"You did well, Sergeant," Wells said. He was taking a fatherly tone, even though they were the same age, and Eddie had more time in uniform. "It was good thinking taking the rifle bolts. You kept a clear head."

"Thank you, sir." Eddie's head felt anything but clear. Wells was, he understood, talking to Eddie like Eddie had talked to Kaplan not half an hour ago, or maybe it'd been a million years before.

"Sergeant Schultz can take over the platoon for now. You've earned a rest."

Officers never said that unless they were worried a man was headed for a crack up, but quick. Eddie nodded slowly. This time, he stood freely, saluting Wells, and walking out of the CP with the deliberation of a drunkard feigning sobriety.

He should check on Kaplan and McInnis, but if his face scared Wells, it probably wouldn't do his boys any good either. Eddie needed to pull himself together. He found himself wandering back from the line. There were a pretty good set of paths running through the jungle down towards the beach, and he picked one at random, following its little twists and turns. Some of the boys from First Battalion had found a swimming hole that was almost cool and wasn't full of 'gators, and Eddie thought he might wash himself clean. The rifle bolts still jingled in his pocket, and Wilkins' Thompson banged against his hip, its weight unfamiliar. He should have handed it in. He'd do it later.

He'd taken the wrong path. Instead of leading to a little spring, trail petered out into nothing. Eddie found himself standing in front of a silver-barked tree that made him think of a birch from back home, save that creeping purple flowers wound up its trunk. Little jewel-toned birds hoped between the blossoms, calling to each other with voices like bells.

Eddie stood and stared.

None of it seemed real. He'd been to five continents when he was sea-going, seen a thousand things he never could have dreamed up in the hills of West Virginia. He'd never seen anything half so fantastical as this. Eddie stared at the little birds, almost as delicate as hummingbirds, watching as they drank from the flowers. They moved so lightly, the barest flutter of wings propelling them from one vine to the next. Eddie didn't understand how anything could be that beautiful.

A branch snapped behind him, and Eddie spun, Thompson raised and ready. The world was swimming, and he blinked, then wiped his eyes. He must have been weeping.

When his vision cleared, Andy was standing in the middle of the path, his hands raised. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said.

Eddie lowered the machine gun so fast he fumbled and dropped it, and it banged hard against leg as it snapped to the end of its strap. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and Eddie decided then and there that this wasn't a dream after all. He wished it were. If this were a dream, he could take Andy into his arms and kiss him as long as he liked, and when he woke up, his squad would all still be alive.

"What did you mean?" Eddie demanded. His voice felt raw, as though he'd been sobbing, or maybe screaming, even though he'd yet to do either.

"I wanted to make sure you were"—a hesitation before the words—"holding up. I heard what happened."

Andy had heard that Eddie had let his squad get killed, then seen Eddie wander into the bush with his weapon and a heart full of ashes. "You pull the short straw, Lieutenant?"

"Eddie," Andy said, voice gentle, like it had been before, when they'd been...

Eddie held his hand up, deflecting Andy before he could take a step forward. The forest had fallen silent. Eddie had scared the little birds away when he'd spun around. This time he could feel the tears rising, clawing their way up through his throat. Jesus. He hadn't wanted Andy to see him hurting, never mind that this had nothing to do with him.

"What are you doing, Hillbilly?" Andy asked, abandoning the use of Eddie's Christian name.

"I...." Eddie couldn't think. He'd been looking for the swimming hole, but that sounded stupid now. It wasn't like he couldn't have washed up in camp, or gone down to the beach, which was nearer and easier to find. He shook his head. His tears were beginning to veil his sight again. He cleared his throat. "If it's no trouble to you, sir, I'd like a few minutes to myself."

He could see the conflict flash across Andy's face, the hesitation in his movements. He wanted that MG away from Eddie, but he didn't want to let on that he wanted it by asking. The strange thing was, turning his own weapon on himself wasn't something that had crossed Eddie's mind. The day didn't need any more death.

"Are you sure?" Andy asked. He kept shifting his weight back and forth, as though he were turning to go, then stopping himself.

"Meant to give this to Captain Wells, sir," Eddie said, unslinging the Thompson and holding it out.

Andy took it, but Eddie didn't see the relief in his eyes that he'd expected. He checked the chamber, safed it and slung it over his shoulder with smooth automatic motions, but he was still watching Eddie with that deadly concern.

Eddie would rather not have had to deal with the sudden appearance of an Andy Haldane who gave a shit about him. He'd been getting used to the opposite. Now, with Andy standing in front of him, he felt too much of a pull to let Andy wrap him in his arms while Eddie wept on his shoulder. If this had been a dream...

"Wish I was dreaming," Eddie muttered, voices choked even to his own ears. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and then his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing loudly. "Wish this whole day'd never happened." That would be the only way Eddie could take back such a colossal series of mistakes. He knew that he was going to wake up every morning for the rest of his life regretting this day, and he didn't know how to face that.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," Andy said, and he took half a step towards Eddie, just inching forward.

It was near enough that when Eddie raised his hand to ward him off again, he ended up shoving at Andy's chest. It felt good to hit something so solid, so alive. Eddie shoved again, liking the fury rising in him better than the sinking remorse.

"Told you to go!" he snarled. He was damn close to striking an officer, and a small part of him was screaming to stop before he got busted right back to private, but the anger pumping through his blood wouldn't listen. "Goddammit, Andy, you ain't got no right to even talk to me. Not after..." He broke off, unable to say what in this mess was Andy's fault. How could any of it be? "You've no right," Eddie said again, and darker words bubbled up, ones he knew that even as he said them that he'd regret, but ones that he knew would make Andy leave him the hell alone. "Or'd you think that just 'cause I'm low, I'll spread my legs for you again? That it?" He stepped in close until their chests were touching. "Your stock of memories running low, so you want to take something else from me?"

Andy was shaking his head, pale, backing slowly away with one hand clutching the strap of the Thompson, and the other balled into a fist at his side. His eyes were wide at Eddie's words, more shocked than if Eddie had slapped him outright.

"I—" Andy started to say, but he couldn't form any words, struck utterly speechless for the first time that Eddie' had ever seen.

Eddie felt the rush of satisfaction of a shot hitting the bullseye. He knew that he would regret this, but as long as he could ride the wave of anger, he wouldn't have to. He stepped forward, knowing his body was angled like an axe swing and his face was set like a bulldog, and felt that same grim satisfaction as Andy took another step back. Andy's foot caught on a root, and he stumbled a little, arm pin wheeling as he caught his balance.

The shock of almost falling broke the power Eddie had over him. Andy's face set, the shock and hurt jammed behind a military mask of indifference, and he said, with great formality. "It was never my intention to hurt you, Sergeant Jones, and I regret very much that I did. I'll leave you to yourself."

With that, he spun on his heel and marched into the jungle,

Eddie stood in frozen silence until the sound of Andy's footsteps faded to nothing. Then he sank to the forest floor, and wept against his knees like a child. His tears made the dried blood smear.

* * *

Wells transferred Eddie back to the MG squad. He said it was almost a promotion, since they'd pulled Lieutenant Cook from there to first platoon to replace Wilkins, and Eddie wouldn't have an officer, said he had a word in to get Eddie made gunnery sergeant. Eddie was pretty sure it was because the MG squad didn't go on patrols, and therefore Wells wouldn't have to risk Eddie getting more of his men killed.

Or maybe it was just that he was a wreck. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, he saw those boys with their throats slit. He dealt with it by not sleeping, not more than he had to anyway. It was good that even the 'Bama boys hadn't managed to get 'shine going yet, or the temptation would have been too real. As was the temptation to go find Andy Haldane and beg him to fuck him into oblivion. Not that he would, now, after what Eddie had said to him.

He was glad he'd brought his guitar. It seemed like playing and getting his little squad to sing along was the only time he could let his mind rest. The heat did terrible things to his strings and tuning, but it wasn't like anyone there cared. They just wanted something that sounded like home.

Eddie mostly didn't want to think of home.

There'd been no movement across the river in the last week, not since second platoon had gone to bring the boys back. Eddie had his squad reinforce their emplacements and dig their foxholes deeper into the muddy earth. They lined them with logs and flat stones and palm fronds, until they'd all made cozy little nests for themselves. Eddie worked shoulder to shoulder with them, worked his hands so raw he could hardly play. He worked until he had to drop into sleep because he didn't have the strength to stand.

They were good boys in his MG squad, ones he'd known since they were all trudging through pre-deployment training, who welcomed him back with open arms and solicitous pats on the shoulder. He hoped he wouldn't let them down.

Feeling that he owed them something like an officer, Eddie started paying more attention to how he looked. He couldn't do much about the general lack of sanitation, but it was easy enough to shave and mend his uniform when he had a moment. A man could look like a marine even when he was in the jungle, cut off from regular resupply and offered no sign of relief. He made sure he stood straight and that his collar was buttoned, and his gaiters were done up, no matter how hot it was. He made them all clean and oil their Springfields twice a day, as often was as needed in this wet heat, no matter that they were MG men and didn't expect to use them. The MGs they cleaned more often than that. Eddie wasn't going to have one of his guns jam because of a corroded bullet when the enemy were pouring over the creek, not if making the men take the bullets out of the feed and polish them could prevent it.

The line stayed quiet for almost ten days.

Every day there'd be a new rumour that the army was coming to re-enforce them. Or that the Japs were evacuating. Or that the Japanese army was coming to re-enforce the Japanese. They'd all be home by Christmas, which was usually said just to get the laugh.

What the Japanese did was wait until a moonless night, and send wave, after wave of banzai charges across the creek.

Eddie had collapsed in near useless exhaustion after spending a day felling and hauling timber to fortify his positions. First he heard of it was a runner shaking him awake, and then the distant clatter of MGs. They weren't his, not yet, but on their right flank downstream. King Company's machine guns were clattering into the dark, its mortars firing across the creek to lay fire on the far bank, half the shells exploding in the canopy. Eddie had no trouble finding the path forward to his positions, not with the way K's weapons platoon was lighting up the night.

He moved down his line. His boys were up and ready, each team in its emplacement, bleary-eyed but watchful. "Keep a sharp eye on the creek," Eddie told them, and, "Hold your fire until I give the order."

Downstream, the firefight continued. Eddie could hear the pauses to change belts, the edges of shouts for more rounds, the crack of rifles as their flanking platoons supported them. Andy's squad would hold the line, he thought, despite being on a corner of a bend, thus vulnerable to several sides at once. Captain Patterson had been stupid to position them there, but then Patterson was stupid about most things.

Andy would be fine. He had the whole company backing him up, and so far the attack was concentrated on his sector of the creek, not general across the whole line. Of course that both meant Andy's squad would be taking the brunt of the attack and would have near unlimited relief. As unlimited as anything was in this hell hole.

It was so dark that all Eddie had to see by was the reflections explosions on the water. He strained his ears for sounds of splashes in the creek, for any sign that his section of the line would come under attack next. Would the enemy wait for them to re-enforce their centre and then hit the newly weakened positions? Were they hoping that just by pouring men into machine gun fire that they could force a way through, as they'd tried and failed at the airstrip?

His boys had started to get fidgety and apprehensive, and Eddie moved up and down his sector, offering a hand on the shoulder here, a small joke there. He made himself take steady breaths and not let his fear show in his voice. His thoughts kept pulling towards images of what these men, too, would look like dead.

On the far side of the creek, the trees were burning. Eddie hadn't thought anything _could_ catch fire in this sort of relentless humidity. Both sides had started to walk artillery rounds towards the opposing banks, a race to see who could take out the other's guns first. King Company's sector bloomed in flames and the sounds of men screaming.

Eddie found that he was praying for Andy, the words sliding from his lips in a jumble of entreaties and promises to God, and curses that Andy had to be the kind of officer that led from the front.

"Jones!" Eddie snapped around at his name, and found the skipper crouching on the bank behind him. "Take two MGs over to K Company's position on the point. They need the help over there. I'll send a rifle squad with you."

"Aye, Skip," Eddie said, even though he wanted to ask what would happen to his line if it were attacked. He had to block the echo of Lieutenant Wilkins telling him to put a squad together for a patrol. He picked the two crews that would give the remaining guns the best coverage, put Corporal Myers in charge, and started to make his way down the bank.

He had ended up with the Thompson submachine gun again, and took point to cover for the boys lugging the heavy MGs. The squad of riflemen flanked them. They were certainly walking into fire, and Eddie couldn't hear himself think as he got closer to the boom of the guns, let alone listen for splashes in the river. They were moving behind the riflemen from Item's third platoon, and then from King's second platoon, but they were waiting in their holes, not firing.

Eddie heard Andy's voice first, ragged from yelling over the explosions and rattle of MG fire. Eddie couldn't make out the words, but homed in on the sound amidst the chaos, finding him in the centre of things, half hidden in a gunpit, talking to one of his crews. Already poncho-covered bodies lay stacked to one side, victims of enemy fire. An explosion shook the ground, too far off to bother diving away from. The enemy's artillery wasn't ranging in properly.

Andy caught sight of Eddie, and for the barest instant his expression froze, but then he signalled that Eddie should bring one MG to him, and send the other downstream. It was all in the movement of his eyes and a gesture of his hands, but Eddie understood, and relayed it to his boys. The rifle squad spread out to double up in the positions along the point.

Eddie dropped down next to Andy. The machine gun in the forward pit was jamming intermittently, and, moving with the ease of men who'd drilled together for years, Andy yanked it off its tripod while Eddie's team slotted theirs in its place.

"Good of you to drop by," Andy said into his ear, patting Eddie's shoulder briefly.

"Any time, sir," Eddie replied, but Andy was already gone, moving back to fix the jammed weapon, to check the line, to be a hundred other places at once.

The creek was a solid mass of the dead and dying. Eddie tried to imagine hearing an officer tell him to run into fire like that, but couldn't, not to so pointless an end. Did they believe it, when they ran into his sights screaming, that all this was for the glory of their emperor? Someone had told Eddie that every Japanese soldier died praying that Hirohito lived ten thousand years, but he suspected they died crying for their mothers, like his own boys did.

There were a lot of cries coming from the dark water in front of him. Eddie tried not to think about them, tried not to think about anything except making sure his boys kept the gun operating and a fresh belt of ammo always at the ready. It was easier to focus on the cold facts of supply and field of fire, on making sure the boys were holding up okay, on anything that wasn't the reality of the carnage around him.

The riflemen stayed steady at their positions, but Eddie checked them anyway, made sure more cartridges found them, went back to the forward MG.

Eddies eyes stung with the smoke of the blazing trees, and with the heat of the MGs. his throat felt like he hadn't had a drink of water the whole night, but he knew he'd drained two canteens and made his boys do the same.

Andy dropped into the gun pit, touching Eddie's shoulder again, and Eddie nodded without having to say anything. He tilted his head down the line towards his other MG crew, and Andy gave him a thumbs up before moving off again. His boys were okay.

Screams echoed from the river, and someone rose out of the water too close to catch in the MG's field of fire. Eddie reacted on instinct, firing the Thompson from the hip, and the enemy soldier fell away, splashing back into the creek. He moved to their flanking riflemen, telling them to keep a better eye for stragglers. He sent a runner for more ammo. He returned to the gun.

The artillery had stopped, either taken out, or never able to get the range though the burning trees.

Eddie's heart raced at the same pace as the bullets fed into the MG, and his vision narrowed and became sharper. He thought he could see in the dark, he was so attuned to the battle around him. It wasn't until Hawkins muttered about being glad it was almost over, that Eddie realised that the dawn was coming.

There had to be an end to it, eventually.

There was. The creek didn't fall silent, not with the moans of the dying and the crack and blaze of the trees, but gradually across the line the firing came to an end. They were shooting at nothing but bodies in the river.

"That'll do, gentlemen," Andy said, dropping back into the hole. His voice was rougher than even Eddie's, and in the growing light, Eddie could see the way his skin pulled tight across his face and he held his whole body deliberately still so that no one could see him shaking with fatigue. His canteen rattled when he unscrewed the lid. Andy took a long swig before passing it to Eddie, who did the same, and held it out to his crew. "Thanks," Andy said in a lower voice.

"What for, sir?" Eddie asked.

Andy took his helmet off just long enough to scratch his nails across his scalp, then settled it back down. "For holding the centre of the line. Don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't brought those extra guns. It was a near thing as it was."

"Captain Wells sent us," Eddie said, feeling stupid. He'd done his duty, and nothing more. His body was starting to wind down, and he could feel the fatigue and sluggishness dragging on him like a weighted net. He rubbed his jaw and shook his head hard enough to rattle his helmet against his skull. "We'd best be getting back to our company, sir."

Andy nodded. He put his hand on Eddie's shoulder again, and held it there for just a little too long, fingers kneading the taut muscles.. Eddie almost whimpered at the touch. Andy grimaced and dropped his hand. "Get some rest, if you can, Sergeant."

Eddie remembered what it felt like to sleep curled in Andy's arms, but he just nodded and went down stream to collect his second crew. His ears were still ringing from working so close to the gun. They'd still need to dismantle and service it before he could catch some sack time, and that was if he could sleep at all.

He wondered when, and where, Andy would manage to find rest, and if he would be able to. That would have been his first time in real combat.

At least Andy didn't seem to hold a grudge for Eddie's harsh words the day of the fatal patrol. In the sober light of second thought, Eddie had been afraid it would cost him his stripes, and worse still Andy's regard. Hell, he'd meant it to cost that, and regretted the words later, but hadn't had any way to reclaim them, and hadn't had the guts to seek Andy out and apologise either.

It would be better if it stayed like this: two marines who could work together when circumstances required, and nothing more.

Eddie touched his shoulder where Andy's hand had rested a moment before, and let his brain replay the fantasy where he found Andy's hammock, and curled up with him in it, and slept for a thousand years. Andy would hold him safe in his arms and look after everything, and Eddie would never have to worry about a thing.

"Jesus, that was something."

"Mmm?" Eddie asked, turning to O'Connor, knowing that his movements were a little too much like a startled hare's.

"That fight," O'Connor said. "Sarge, did you see how they..."

"I saw," Eddie said. "You did a good job, Jack. Kept your post like it was just a drill." He looped his arm around O'Connor's shoulders and pulled him into a sideways hug, doing the same with Hawkins on the other side. Their equipment clattered as they walked, and they grinned up at him, proud and glowing with victory. They couldn't be more than nineteen, the pair of them. Eddie wondered if what they'd done would ever sink in, and if he hoped it would or it wouldn't.

Eddie knew that he never wanted to know how many men he'd killed that night, or to imagine that they each had a face like that boy in the jungle.

His own boys were too young and exalted to be tired, and chatted with the other crew all the way back to Item, then recounted the whole night to the rest of the squad. Eddie helped them work on the MGs, but kept his thoughts to himself unless someone asked. His hands moved mechanically, stripping, cleaning reassembling, and he found himself humming an old spiritual about going down to the water.

It had been, he supposed, a baptism of a sort. For Andy Haldane as much as the rest of them.

* * *

The sounds of that night echoed through Eddie's dreams all day. He slept because his body demanded it, but only fitfully. He kept waking, thinking that he heard gunfire or screams, only to find that it was just birds in the distance or men moving overhead. At least the foxholes were dark even in the daytime.

Around twilight, Eddie figured he got all the rest he could stand, and sat outside his foxhole smoking and fussing with his guitar. It really just wouldn't keep any kind of tune in this weather.

Eddie started at the sound of boots, but it was only Captain Wells, who dropped into a crouch in front of Eddie before he could stand and salute. He held out a smoke, and Eddie lit it off the butt of his own before passing it back.

"Well, Hillbilly," he said, "Lieutenant Haldane wrote me quite the letter about you."

Eddie froze, just for a moment, fingers tightening on the neck of his guitar. His mind was overwhelmed with the horror of possibility. Had Andy reported him for his temper tantrum? Or even for... no, he couldn't have. Though if he had, Eddie knew which one of them would be believed. He made himself smile and ask blandly, "That so, sir?"

Wells sucked at his smoke. "It is," he said. "Said he wouldn't have held the point last night if you hadn't kept your head on your shoulders and taken charge of the central positions like you did. Called you one of the best marines he's served with, and said it was just a shame you weren't an officer, to be given a chance to really show off your command potential."

"He—" Eddie hesitated over his choice of words. He could feel his face burning, not in modesty at getting such praise but in humiliation at the notion that it might be some kind of payment. What if Andy thought him a whore to be bought? Surely he wouldn't, and yet... Eddie swallowed. He couldn't do this. "That's very good of Lieutenant Haldane to say, sir."

"Ack-Ack's not the kind of man who'd say something he didn't mean," Wells told him. He paused, studying Eddie's reaction, and though the light was fading he had to see Eddie's discomfort. Eddie hunched in, curling his body around the guitar as though it were a baby he was trying shelter. Wells hummed to himself, then said, "I've thought the same about you, Hillbilly. Thought the same after that patrol a few weeks back. I've never met a man so level-headed under fire."

Eddie wondered how many times the skipper had seen fire. He was about the same age as Eddie, maybe a year older, and hadn't been in much before the war. Eddie swallowed and ducked his head, murmuring thanks, remembering that Ma had told him that a man didn't refuse a compliment honestly offered.

"I know you've been taking that patrol hard," Wells continued, "but I've talked to Privates Kaplan and McInnis, and I don't see how any man could have handled it better. There was no way you could have known, and your response after the fact was exemplary."

"Thank you, sir," Eddie murmured. He'd seen the Corps do this before: recast an unmitigated disaster into a triumph by crowning the survivors in all kinds of laurels. He wanted no part in that, same as he wanted no part in whatever Andy was cooking up. He took a breath, then stubbed the last ember of his cigarette out on the log he was sitting on. "Skipper, if you're looking to pin a commission on me, I don't want none of it."

Wells glanced away, clearly caught out before he could finish his planned build up to the offer. He thought for a second, then came back with. "It'd be over double the pay."

Let it not be said that Captain Wells didn't know the way to a man's heart. That wasn't something Eddie could turn down. Unless he died in combat and the Corps paid out his life insurance, even a second lieutenant's salary was more money than his family could ever hope to see. "You talk to the old man yet, sir?" It would be the colonel whose recommendation really mattered, not what some MG lieutenant or company captain said.

Wells shook his head. "Was planning to in the morning, when I wrapped up the AARs."

"Okay." Eddie knew that he was both too tired and too on edge to make this kind of choice on no notice. Not that there was a choice. He would be stupid to turn down this kind of offer. If the Colonel agreed, and his recommendation went through, it would change Eddie's life forever. Really, a second lieutenant didn't have much more responsibility than a staff sergeant, probably less in some ways, but the difference in pay, the difference in respect back home. Those would mean the world to Eddie's family. If only Eddie could be sure that he'd earned it, that Andy and Captain Wells had looked at his merits and seen something worthy. "Sir, may I come by the CP at 0600 tomorrow? I'll be able to better say then."

"Suppose a fellow needs time to get used to an idea." Wells sounded like he was trying to put a consoling face on one of his NCOs being a complete idiot. He ground his cigarette out on the log, and stood. "Oh six hundred," he said, and turned to walk away.

"Aye, Skip," Eddie muttered. He stowed his guitar back in the foxhole, stood in thought for a moment, and walked back towards King Company's section of the line. He got about half way there, then changed his mind, went back to his hole, shaved, combed his hair, tidied up, and set off again.

Somewhere far over the mountainous spine of the island, the sun was setting. It cast the high clouds in glowing pink and gold even as the sky above them darkened. Those huge fruit bats, animals the size of crows, would be flying out for their nightly feeding soon . Again, Eddie felt as though he'd been cast onto an alien world. Something out of Flash Gordon maybe, or one of those superhero comics the boys liked. He wished, sometimes, for that level of unreality, for this all to be something that could be solved with a wisecrack and a ray gun. The rest of the time he just wished for the ray gun.

He found Andy watching the line up for company mess—rice again—his arms folded and his expression sombre. He was standing next to another officer who Eddie didn't know, though vaguely recognised as a mustang, an enlisted man who'd received a battlefield commission. When he saw Eddie approaching, Andy smiled and said something to the other officer. When Eddie was close enough to salute, Andy introduced him to Lieutenant Chisick as "the man who saved our asses last night," and then Chisick wanted to shake his hand.

Eddie ducked his head and looked sideways at Andy, who was still smiling at him, but he had a bit of that old uncertainty in his pose, something about the set of his shoulders reminded Eddie of him how Andy had looked in those first moments in the hotel room. He knew, then, why Eddie was here.

"Sir," Eddie said, then realised that encompassed both of them. "Lieutenant Haldane, sir. Might I speak to you aside for a moment? About last night." Too late he realised how _that_ sounded, but it was the only thing he could think of. There wasn't really a reason for a sergeant from one company to talk to a lieutenant from another.

"About my AAR?" Andy asked. "Sure thing. I'll just be a minute, Dan. Save me some chow."

Chisick said something about the finest maggots on the Canal, and Andy gave him one of those easy smiles that made Eddie's heart melt. He put his hand on the middle of Eddie's back, steering him towards the edge of the clearing. There were a couple old machine gun pits there, from when they'd first set up here a month ago, and hadn't been sure of their flank, and a lot of towering forest.

They stood in sight of the rest of the company, and Eddie knew that he'd have to keep his expression mild. Maybe he should have waited until full dark, but that was coming fast. Now that he had Andy standing in front of him, arms folded and face a neutral mask, he wasn't sure what to say. "Didn't mean to pull you out of the chow line, sir," he started tentatively.

Andy smiled, open, friendly, seeming not to remember that the last time they'd talked alone, Eddie had told him where to go and how to get there. "It's okay, Hillbilly," he said, "Can't say as I was looking forward to another bowl of rice and maggots."

Eddie nodded. None of them had had their bellies full in too long to remember, almost. Since that breakfast of steak and eggs before they'd landed, anyway. He was procrastinating. "My skipper told me about your report," he said.

"Mention if he'd do anything about it?" Andy asked. He was trying to appear interested, but not too interested; however, the way he bounced forward on the balls of his feet gave him away. He thought he was offering Eddie a present, and was waiting for him to be delighted with him. He thought Eddie wanted this.

Problem was, Eddie didn't _not_ want a commission. He just didn't want one because he'd spread his legs for an officer. Eddie folded his hands behind him like he was standing at parade rest. "Skipper said he'd put it up to the old man, if I'd stand for it. Told him I'd sleep on it."

"What's there to sleep on?" Andy asked it with the easy confidence of a man who never considered being anything other than an officer. He'd gone to college, Eddie had heard, and then graduated from Quantico. He was so sure that Eddie wanted to be elevated to the lofty heights of possessing a gold bar on his epaulettes. Smug son of a bitch.

"Why you wrote that letter, for one," Eddie told him flatly. He could feel the tension of an anticipated fight building across his back, and hoped it didn't show to the men casually watching from across the field. Darkness was closing in quickly. Night falling like a blanket, as it always did in the tropics.

Andy frowned, not understanding at first. "Because it was true," he said, confused, "and you deserve it."

"And it's not because of something else?" Eddie demanded. His hands tightened around each other and he felt his shoulders bunch. "Something we did in New Zealand."

"What?" Andy spat out the question with such immediateness that at first Eddie thought it had to be a genuine question, until he considered that it might be a prepared denial of the truth, some manner of protesting too much. Either way, he didn't think Andy was faking his agitation. He glanced back at his men, and leaned forward to hiss, "Sergeant, I am not the kind of man who lets his lovers influence his duty, and if you think...."

They heard the whistle of the shell an instant before it hit. Eddie moved on instinct, ducking and driving his shoulder into Andy's ribs and crashing them both backwards towards the entrance to the abandoned gun pit. He landed smack on top of Andy, covering his body with his own, but the shell hit far enough away that it was a dull thud more than an explosion. Eddie stared down at Andy for a moment, but his face was a blur in the darkness.

"We need cover!" Andy shouted, and Eddie nodded. The gun pits were deep and had logs bracing the sides, even if it didn't have a solid log cover as many of them did. Just a couple planks and some palm fronds. Still, it was safer than risking a dash across for one of the better holes.

Eddie rolled off of Andy and crawled forward and down, and Andy followed a second later, entrance obscured by the scream of another shell. This one hit close enough that Eddie could hear it burst open, and see the flash that briefly split the night. They were ranging in. He put his back to the wall nearest the explosions and folded in on himself as best he could, dropping his head between his knees and wrapping his arms around the back of his neck. He felt Andy's body strong and warm beside, his shoulder and hip pressed against Eddie's.

The next shell hit close enough to shake the ground, and the roar of the explosion split the air around him. These weren't local artillery pieces, but the big guns from the Japanese navy running in from the Slot. There was nothing to do except take the best cover you could and pray that your number wasn't up. Eddie hated the helplessness of these barrages, and hated more how afraid they made him. He'd thought himself a brave man before he'd taken fire the first time.

"I hope..." he heard Andy yell, but the next explosion tore the world apart, and Eddie never heard the second half. The ground seemed to rise, then plummeted back down again, and he felt Andy's arms around him, and Andy's body covering his. Eddie curled into a ball and let himself be sheltered, even as his gut curled with the shame of it. He wanted to scream against the relentless terror of the world around him moving. He could, no one but Andy would hear, but he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut and prayed.

Like on the river, he didn't have coherent words, just, _God, please, please_. Each shell blast felt worse than the last, and he felt sure with each that the next would fall right in their hole and blast them into paste so fine not even their dog tags could be recovered. He didn't want to die.

Andy had buried his face against Eddie's neck, and Eddie could feel his ragged breaths, feel the terror filling his body as well, and wished he could be calm for both of them.

The next explosion shoved both of them against the wall of the gun pit like the hand of God pushing them down, and then, after the concussion of the blast, Eddie heard an awful, splitting tearing sound, and then it seemed as though the world ended.

Eddie had one last moment to think that he was sorry for his Ma, and that he was glad he wasn't dying alone, before his mind stopped coping with the the sensations of the attack. He was aware, abstractly, that the explosions were fading into the distance, as the artillery sweep passed them by, and that he was still breathing, and Andy was too, but that was all. His thoughts wouldn't latch onto anything, each thought slipping away like a minnow between his fingers, his terrified mind running away from itself.

Eventually, the shells stopped falling. Eddie didn't know how long had passed, just that the night had lapsed into silence, and the loudest sound was the blood pounding through his ears, and Andy's ragged breathing on his neck. Eddie stayed as still as he could, as if moving could make the bombardment recommence.

The silence was ringing as the explosions. Then, distantly, he heard men begin to cry for help. Andy started as if he'd touched a live wire, then went still again.

"Eddie," he said, voice like gravel from the dust. He squeezed Eddie's elbow, but didn't start to move away until Eddie responded.

"'M okay," Eddie muttered. Certainly nothing hurt so far as he could tell. His head was spinning in so many circles that he could be missing a leg and it wouldn't have caught up with him yet. Andy's arms were warm around him, his breath steadying as his chest pressed against Eddie's back. "What 'bout you?"

Andy grunted in response, and Eddie felt him flex his arms and legs. "No damage." He squeezed Eddie's elbow again and then started to disentangle from him. He didn't get past half sitting up before he stopped. "There's something on top of us."

He sounded alarmed enough to kick Eddie's brain out of its quailing huddle. Eddie sat up carefully, but he couldn't even do that before his head brushed something hard. He rolled forward on his knees and felt through his pockets for his lighter. He hesitated. It was after lights out, technically, but they were in a covered hole in the ground, on their side of the line. It occurred to him that he could see nothing but blackness, not the stars through the ragged clouds, not the fires from the explosions.

"That a light?" Andy asked and Eddie answered by flipping the cap open and thumbing the wheel.

He had to blink against the sudden brightness of the flame. but once his eyes had adjusted, it was easy enough to take in their situation. There was Andy, his stubbled face smeared with dirt. There were the log walls of the gunpit. There was the massive tree trunk that completely obscured the sky.

"Fuck," Andy said with immense sincerity.

"Amen," Eddie agreed. He leaned to one side, but the trunk met the logs like a fitted lid there. Wordlessly, he passed the lighter to Andy, who checked the other side. He just shook his head. The trunk of the tree took up the top third of the gun pit. If they hadn't been huddled together at the bottom, it would have crushed them. It could have broken Andy's back even as he'd covered Eddie's body with his own. This could have been their coffin. It still could.

Andy had his trench knife out and was poking at the edge of the pit. "There's a little air coming through here," he said. "Can see it moving the flame. Like Tom Sawyer."

Of course Andy thought this was a boy's adventure. Eddie closed his eyes, but the darkness of that was worse. He opened them again, and watched Andy's profile backlit by the tiny flame as he peered at the side of the pit.

"Think we could dig out?" Eddie asked.

"I..." Andy tugged at the log, and all the walls creaked and shifted.

Eddie thought he could feel his heart stop, and cried out without thinking, "For Christ's sake, stop!"

Andy subsided, and the creaking stopped. "I think we'd better not. Better wait until morning and let them tunnel in from the outside."

"All right." Eddie could see the sense in that. There'd be more light, and more time, and for all they knew the navy could go for another round of shelling before dawn. He held out his hand for the lighter, and Andy flicked it closed to save its fuel. It was already hot to the touch for having burned so long. Andy's fingers lingered on his palm, then pulled away.

Eddie drew back, slumping down so that his back was on the floor and his boondockers rested on the far wall. He just about had enough room to rest his head on the wall they'd been huddling against, and folded his arms under his neck to cushion it. He heard Andy shifting around, his clothes rustling, and the scrape of his belt on the planks, but didn't work out where he was situated, other than that he wasn't touching Eddie.

"Well, Sergeant Jones," Andy said, voice tinged with amusement, sounding like his face was right next to the vent he'd found, "You said you wanted to talk. Seems like we have the time."

"That we do," Eddie agreed, but he didn't know what to talk about. He'd been so worried about the impropriety, the dishonour even, of accepting a promotion offered to him like thirty pieces of silver, and now that seemed like so small a thing. He didn't know what he'd been praying for as the bombs fell, but he knew it hadn't had much to do with Captain Wells writing letters to anyone, or the Marine Corps at all. He shivered, though their body heat had warmed the small pit, and clenched his hands into fists behind his neck.

"You sure you're not hurt," Andy asked, all solicitude.

Eddie was going to have to watch even his breathing, if all of Andy's natural care was going to be focused on him for lack of any better target. "Gonna be a long night," Eddie grumbled.

"Suppose it is," Andy agreed, but instead of saying something to lighten it, they both fell silent.

Eddie wished he thought he would sleep, but the weight of the tree over him felt like too much. The prospect of hours upon hours trapped in a six by four coffin with Andy Haldane also seemed like too much.

"I wrote that letter because I believed every word, and because you deserve the commendation, and the commission if Wells can swing it. You'd make a damn fine officer, Eddie," Andy said, seemingly out of the blue, and Eddie had to track back to a conversation an apocalypse ago. "It wasn't because I felt I owed you for New Zealand, or because I wanted you to owe me anything. If that was your concern."

"Suppose it was," Eddie admitted, then didn't know what else to say. He didn't suppose that Andy thought about him nearly as much as he thought about Andy. Why should he? For Andy, Eddie had been a tumble between the sheets and some fond memories, probably something he made a habit of every time he was in port. If they ever got out of here, not just the gun pit, but the war, Andy would find someone else to romance, and Eddie... Eddie would continue on as he always had: fast, anonymous fucks where he could find them, the shame warring with the need to surrender himself until he could feel nothing else, until he didn't have to think. For Eddie, Andy had been everything he'd never imagined he could have. He still was: his dirty little fantasy of happiness. But that wasn't Andy's fault. He hadn't promised Eddie anything past their night together. It wasn't any of his concern that Eddie had lost his head.

Eddie was glad that Andy was just letting him think, not pushing the conversation forward. He should have thought more before he'd come tearing over here to demand Andy explain a compliment. If he hadn't, neither of them would be trapped here. Though, Eddie supposed, one or both of them could easily be dead. All it took was being at the wrong place at the wrong time. If Eddie had been further back in the line a few weeks ago, would he even have gotten a shot off like Wilkins had? If he hadn't been in that bar, or Andy hadn't...

"I'm sorry," Eddie murmured, and when Andy made an interested sound, he added, "For what I said the other day. There was no call for that kind of talk. I don't think..." he tried to call back what he'd said, something cruel enough to make Andy leave. "I don't think you'd do that."

Across the darkness, Andy sighed. "I hoped you didn't," he said, voice small even in the close space. "I hoped I hadn't done something to you to make you think I'd"—he hesitated before settling on—"be the kind of man who'd take advantage, or that I had, before."

"You didn't do anything I didn't ask you to," Eddie said quickly. He'd practically begged for it at the end there. "Ain't your fault that I can be a real bastard." It wasn't his fault that Eddie had wanted something he couldn't name, which Andy had never so much as implied was on offer.

"You'd just lost—" Andy cut himself off, and Eddie was grateful. It was too dark and close to death here to talk about that day. His grief was still too near, and he suspected it always would be.

Still, Eddie had wondered about one thing. "Did you think I was going to..."

Andy shifted, his hand sliding across the floor before he found Eddie's bicep and squeezed it lightly. "I didn't know what to think," he admitted. "I don't know I was thinking, if I had been, maybe I'd have let you be. All I knew was that you were in pain, and I'd have done anything in the world to spare you that."

Closing his eyes made the world the same shade of black as it was with them open, but at least he felt like it ought to be dark. God, he wanted to be out of here. He didn't want to think about how good Andy's touch felt. With that hand on his arm, he could almost believe... well, pretty much anything Andy told him. He wished he had the courage to ask to be held, just for a little while, just as long as the dark lasted. Instead, he lay silent in the dark and said nothing.

"I think of that night," Andy said, "more than you can imagine."

Eddie would wager that he could imagine pretty well, but he tried to sound unaffected when he asked, "So it worked? You got your store of sweet memories to tide you over." He wondered if any memory could be so sweet as to ward off more than a month of this place. But then, he'd been making himself think of that night as little as possible. "Worked a treat, did it? Your little romance." Eddie hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but it welled up anyway. He knew he wasn't being fair, but what in this war was fair of all things?

"Eddie." Andy sounded hurt, and pulled his hand away from Eddie's arm, which Eddie regretted, but couldn't feel was a mistake, either. Andy should know by now to stay away from that topic. Except, after a minute's pause, Andy continued with, "I didn't mean that night... rather, I meant it to be something we shared, something for both of us, I didn't mean to take from you."

Eddie had no idea how to explain to an honest, caring man like Andy that not meaning to take had been the core of the problem. If they'd just fucked in the park and had done, Eddie could have glanced wistfully at Andy every so often, remembering the feel of their bodies together, but it wouldn't have made him ache so. He sometimes felt as though Andy had shown him a hole in his chest that he hadn't even known was there, like he hadn't seen a mirror before, and only now realised that his eyes were blue. "Yeah, well," he muttered, and lapsed into silence.

"I'm sorry," Andy said. "I wish nothing but the best for you."

"Might be best to stay away from me then," Eddie said, then chuckled. "After we get outta this hole, anyhow."

"Okay." Andy still sounded hurt though, and Eddie wished he wouldn't. "I've been trying, you know? Trying not to chase after you. I knew you didn't want more than what we had that night. I wasn't sure that I hadn't already presumed too much asking for as much as we had, on the whole." He sighed again, the sound of his frustration filling the space between them. "It's been three times now, that I've seen you and thought, 'Thank God.' Once in the bar that first night, then again after I heard Item had lost a patrol and knew you'd been out. When I saw you in Wells' CP, I prayed like I never have before. Then last night, when you came in with those two crews, and I knew I wouldn't have to worry about holding that part of the line. 'Thank God,' I thought, 'here comes Hillbilly Jones.' Seems like every time I see you, I'm gladder for it, even when you’re pissed as hell at me."

Eddie's heart glowed with pride at the words, the heat from his chest spreading an invisible blush up his neck and across his face. If he could have seen himself, he knew his ears would be blazing red with the mix of gratitude and shame. It was like Andy telling him he was a good man, and he didn't need to be ashamed. It was like Andy saying that like called to like, meaning they two were the same, and seeming to find pride in that. Andy had seen Eddie like that—in the park and on the bed—and he still prayed for Eddie, not with contrition, but with gratitude. More still, Eddie understood that Andy's cool behaviour aboard ship had been in an effort to respect what he believed to be Eddie's wishes, not because he didn't care.

"Why're you telling me this?" Eddie asked, and only when he heard his own voice did he realise it was hoarse with unshed tears.

Andy made a sound that was probably trying to be a laugh, but only made it as far as an expulsion of breath. "Ha. Excusing myself in advance, I think. You're a hard man to give up, is what I'm getting at."

It was about the nicest thing anyone had said to Eddie since he'd left home. Maybe the nicest thing he'd heard at any time, as a mother's compliments didn't have to be earned. Eddie wanted to say something in return, wanted to be able to offer something to Andy in exchange for his kindness, but all he had was his body, and he couldn't bring himself to promise that. They were tangled too tightly in each other as it was, or at least Eddie felt that way, and it seemed that Andy might as well, and there could be no future in it.

"What do you reckon you'll do after?" Eddie asked, wanting to turn the conversation to safer ground. He supposed they could just wait in silence, but it was too easy to feel alone in the dark if he couldn't hear another voice.

"After the war?" Andy asked, redundantly, Eddie thought. There was only one "after" that had a question to it. "I suppose I'll go back to Bowdoin, my college. I had a job there coaching football before Quantico. I thought I might do that for a few years, and work on a doctorate."

Eddie wondered if his immediate plans included running for President of the United States, or if he was saving that for a few years down the road. "Sounds nice," he offered noncommittally, though he didn't know if it did or not.

"What about you?"

"I'll stay in, if they'll let me," Eddie answered. "If I get that commission, it'll be twice the money I can make anywhere in West Virginia, and Ma's counting on it, least ways until the little ones are out from under her skirts. Promised I'd take care of her."

"So you'll take the commission?" Andy asked, sounding a little too interested again, but Eddie supposed he couldn't help himself. A man had to be invested in the results of a project he'd taken on.

"Be a fool not to," Eddie said. Even if it'd come with some kind of strings tying him to Andy, he'd be a fool. "That's assuming the old man approves it."

"He will. Hey, don't laugh, I write a convincing letter." Eddie wished he could see the smile he heard in Andy's voice. It'd almost be worth burning more lighter fuel.

He wanted a smoke, too, but thought that would choke the air out. It was thick enough in here as it was. "You gonna get married, have kids and all that?" Eddie asked, not sure if he was trying to torture himself, or if he genuinely wanted to know.

At first Andy didn't answer, and Eddie regretted asking such a personal question. He'd opened his mouth and was trying to work out how to take it back when Andy said, "I've thought about it. It's what my family expects. The problem is I'd be in a bind either way: any woman worth marrying would work out what I was, and if she wasn't bright enough to do it, I don't see how I'd be able to live with her. It'd be nothing less than a lie either way, and probably cowardice besides."

So he wasn't the kind of man who only lay with men when he couldn't get a woman. Eddie had supposed he wasn't. There'd been plenty of girls in New Zealand, if a dashing young officer like Andy had wanted to spend the night with one. "You're no coward," Eddie told him.

"I try not to be," Andy said with more honesty than Eddie was used to, though he was starting to expect an unusual frankness from Andy. "Funny, our boys, the last thing they want, the very last, is to be thought a coward. They look to us, to the officers and the NCOs, to see how to be brave, but we're just as terrified as they are."

"Can't show it though," Eddie said. "Not if they're watching us, and they always are."

"So we pretend to be brave for them, and they pretend to be brave for us," Andy continued, "and somehow we all talk each other into something like courage, even if we're still scared half out of our minds."

Eddie had been scared completely out of his mind when that tree came down on them. If Andy hadn't been there holding him, he might have died from the pure, blinding terror of it. Andy's breaths had been ragged, and his heart had raced, but he'd also been able to pull himself together, or had that just been for Eddie's sake? Who knew what each man would do if he were to face death alone and in the dark? Eddie supposed he'd find out in due time. Then he'd just have to square what he'd done in those last moments with the Man Upstairs.

Andy wasn't done talking. "I see that here, and I wonder sometimes if we could do that for each other." He paused to collect his thoughts, shifting his weight against the far wall. "What I mean is, could men with our natures look to each other for courage. There are enough of us that if we stopped hiding, and..." Andy trailed off there. Maybe he wasn't quite able to picture what would happen if they all just stood up and said they were queers. Eddie knew he sure wasn't.

That wasn't true, though. When he thought about Andy's words, he imagined a Japanese officer, something like Captain Wells, even, standing in front of his men and telling them that if they all ran across the creek at once, praise for the emperor on their lips, that surely the Americans wouldn't be able to mow them _all_ down.

"I can't see as that'd go so well," Eddie told him.

"Maybe not," Andy admitted. "But a man gets tired of hiding."

"Not if he knows what's best for him, he don't," Eddie said firmly. That'd been the most important thing that first man had impressed upon him: keep this secret, any normal person who finds out, they'll cast you aside with yesterday's garbage. "Being foolhardy ain't the same as being brave, Andy."

Eddie could tell from the little huff of breath and the quality of the silence that followed that Andy didn't agree with him, but didn't see the point in continuing the argument either. That suited Eddie just fine. As the silence stretched on, Eddie groped through his pockets and found his lighter. He flicked it on just long enough to check his watch and catch a glimpse of Andy, who sat with his arms around his knees, his head tilted back so that his mouth and nose was as close to the fresh air as he could get them.

"What's the time?" Andy asked.

"Coming up on midnight."

They both knew that meant another five hours at least before it was light enough to see. The recovery efforts would start in earnest then, when it was safer to work.

Eddie heard Andy take a breath, same as he always did before he suggested something he wasn't sure Eddie was going to like. "If we both lie down crosswise to how you are now, maybe we could catch some sleep."

"Mmm," was all Eddie could say to that. They'd have to lie close, as close as they had after sex, and Eddie didn't know if he'd be able to stand that. On the other hand, he was hardly comfortable as he was, and he was exhausted to the bone, the release of terror wringing that last bit of strength right out of him. Andy had to be just as tired.

The truth was, he thought the only way he _would_ sleep with that massive weight pressing down above them was if he could feel the beat of Andy's heart under him. He needed to know that something was alive in this tomb.

Eventually, Eddie offered, "If you lay on your back, I could..." he left the rest unsaid, but he knew Andy would remember how they'd been before. They moved about each other awkwardly—Andy slowly unfolding his long legs and stretching out across the floor, Eddie turning sideways and laying over Andy's body even as he covered the floor. Eddie's joints had tightened from lying jammed in the corner for so long, and he wanted to roll his shoulders and stretch, but didn't have the room.

He settled with his head on Andy's chest, right over his heart, and the steady beat of it was as reassuring as he'd imagined it would be. The packed dirt floor was hard against his hip, and he shifted until his leg crossed over Andy's thighs, and Andy wrapped his arm around Eddie's shoulders and tugged him in closer, making a small, satisfied whine like a dog who'd just had his ears scratched.

"Seems like you'd do anything to get an excuse to hold me," Eddie joked, though maybe not plainly enough because Andy took a sharp breath as though he planned to protest his innocence. "Oh, hush," Eddie added. He curled his hand around Andy's ribs, remembering the feel of bare skin against skin from before. They'd both smelled a good deal better then, too. This probably had been a bad idea, but so many things he did were bad ideas.

Andy tipped his head so that his cheek was resting against Eddie's forehead, two-day beard rough against his skin. "Can't get enough of you," he murmured, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was joking or not. It shouldn't have felt as gratifying to hear that as it did.

Eddie wondered if Andy was pretending he was back in New Zealand, though Eddie's hip was brushing Andy's crotch, and if he was daydreaming, he wasn't getting off on it.

It was nice though, lying together like this again. The dark was still too close around them, but there was a bit more air down this end of the pit, and the steady thud of Andy's heart calmed him. Eddie sighed softly and settled into place. He even thought he might sleep, eventually, or at least drift off for a bit.

Andy, it seemed, was still thinking. "You said before that if we all lived honestly, it wouldn't go well."

Eddie grunted, torn between annoyance that they were back to this again, and liking the sound of Andy's voice, and how his chest vibrated as he talked.

"I think a man could live honestly, could be true to himself, without that kind of risk." Andy was speaking slowly, as though he were forging the thought as it passed his lips. "I knew a man at Bowdoin, one of the Government professors. He lived with another man, a roommate, everyone said, but he never dated and neither of them ever married."

"Was he the one who..." Eddie didn't want to spell it out, didn't want to picture Andy learning this life from some fusty old professor, but maybe that would have been safer than how he'd learned. Eddie had been lucky to fall in with someone as kind as he had, who'd done his best to be gentle.

"Who..." Andy made it a question, then took a quick breath and shook his head, his cheek rocking against Eddie's hair. "No. I'd worked all that out before. In high school, with one of the older boys on the baseball team."

That sounded nice. "But they just lived together, and no one paid them any mind?"

"They didn't seem to," Andy said. He didn't sound entirely sure about that either. "Everyone knew, but no one said anything past that it was a waste that nice young men like that weren't marrying."

Eddie tried to picture that: going back to a civilian life and just living with a friend, like you were man and wife, but at the same time not quite like that, but not like being roommates either. In any case, he doubted it was something that happened in West Virginia, or to men like him at all. Damn Andy for always holding up scraps of these fairy tales to show him, only to let the vagaries of the real world snatch them away. To keep from talking about it, he asked, "What happened to your friend, the baseball player?"

"Mmm? Oh, he'd gotten into Dartmouth by the time I was a senior. He wrote me all year, and I saw him that next summer, but..."

But the world had pulled them apart, and it hadn't meant to be a real thing anyhow. Eddie wished he knew if he was glad that Andy had lost his virginity to someone young and sweet-sounding, or if he should be jealous—jealous that Andy seemed to have had everything that Eddie had not, or even jealous that Andy had cared about someone before Eddie, though of course he had. Of course Eddie had no hold on him now; they'd both said they didn't want that.

Eddie was beginning to suspect he didn't know what he wanted, other than out of this damn tomb and back with his boys. It was easier not to think, so he snuggled down against Andy's chest and slept.

He woke in the morning to a laughing Lieutenant Chisick asking Andy if he'd had a chance to talk over that AAR, or if he wanted a little more time, and Andy reaching up to their air vent with his middle finger extended.

It was well after 0600 by the time King Company dug them out and Eddie was able to report to Item's CP, but the skipper didn't seem to mind his tardiness. In fact, he seemed downright delighted that Eddie had not only survived but agreed to take a commission were one offered to him.

Though September turned into October, and the fighting ground on, Eddie neither heard about the commission, nor saw much of Andy. He was too busy to think about it, for the most part. Even after they got replacements and supplies, he was still left in charge of his MG squad, and they still seemed to spend the majority of their time fighting over who got what bank of the damn creek.

The strange thing was that, when Eddie had a moment to himself to think or to try to sleep, he didn't think of that night in the hotel nearly so much as he remembered how easily he'd slept in Andy's arms, even with the whole world crushing down on top of them. Sometimes, it was nearly enough to obscure the images of his platoon with its throat slit.


	3. Australia. December 1942 to August 1943.

Melbourne was like being born again. The Fifth Marines were put up in barracks in a park well south of the city, but it took the majority of the regiment about half an hour to work out how to get to the commuter trains, and after that there was no stopping them. Not that anyone tried, not even the MPs.

Though he had an itch that could certainly use scratching, and though the other NCOs tried to drag him onto one of the transport trucks, Eddie decided that he wanted to spend the better part of the first week in camp sleeping as much as he could and eating as much chow as they'd let him have. He'd drifted through their two-week lay over in Brisbane in a daze, and not missed much for doing it, but he was still dog tired.

By the second day at Camp Balcombe, Eddie's more advanced plans involved sitting on the porch of the NCOs barracks holding his guitar while gently napping in the sun, and occasionally waking up to try to tune the thing. He knew it needed new strings, or maybe he just needed a new guitar, but that was a problem for tomorrow. He liked just lounging with the sun on his face immensely, finding it easier to sleep there than in a bunk in the dark, where his ears constantly strained for some sound of movement, and visions of the Canal drifted across the insides of his eyelids.

Eddie's sloth was interrupted by a shadow passing over him. He didn't crack an eye until the deck creaked under a weight settling at his side. The first thing Eddie noticed were the double silver bars pinned to Andy's shoulder. "Look at you, Skipper," he said approvingly. "About time."

"Don't bother leaping up to salute," Andy commented, as Eddie continued to melt into the deck. "Surprised you're not wearing bars yet yourself."

"Have to find an officer sober enough to pin them on me," Eddie explained. His pay had kicked in, at least. "Need new dungarees anyhow. Wonder if I can make over my old Greens." He hadn't actually been reunited with his sea bag yet. Most of them hadn't. He had a depressing feeling the Corps would charge him for its replacement.

"When you get it done, I'll take you out to the officer's club, wet your swab, as they used to say. Do you know what company you'll be in?"

"No, sir, not yet," Eddie answered before the first part of what Andy had said had a chance to register. He prevaricated on his answer by adding, "Battalion HQ for now, until they work out where to put me. But, sir, there's no need to make a fuss over me. Wasn't thinking to do much about it, myself."

There was Andy's hand on his arm again, tugging his attention like a magnet to a compass needle. "What if I want to make a fuss over you, Eddie?"

It was too familiar to stand, and yet Eddie couldn't push him away. He should shake his head and mention something about their agreement to let things be, but he felt stuck in place. Eddie swallowed, and asked carefully, "Are you asking me to walk out with you, sir?"

Andy blew out a frustrated breath. "I told you to call me 'Andy' when we're ashore, and, yes, I suppose I am. Why not?" Eddie could almost feel Andy's gaze sliding around the camp, but there was no one in earshot. "We like each other, go well together. It would be safer than finding a stranger every time we wanted to satisfy ourselves."

"Safer," Eddie said flatly. "Right until people wonder why we've started living in each other's pockets all of a sudden."

"Two junior officers carousing together," Andy countered, and Eddie had a suspicion that he'd worked out most of this back and forth in advance, "What's more natural than that?"

"A mustang from one company and a Quantico man from another?" Eddie asked, and let Andy fill in the rest, but perhaps he was over scrutinising the situation. No suspicion had fallen on either of them, so far as he knew. Perhaps it would only seem odd if a man were looking for a queerness he already knew to be there. Stranger friendships had formed in war. And maybe it was safer than cruising the bars and parks. The boys who'd staggered back in from their first night of on the town had said it was a buttoned up sort of place, if one compared it to San Diego or New York, and that the local police had not been friendly.

They were both, he knew, rationalising what they really wanted, which was an excuse to fall back into bed together. Even just here, leaning back in the afternoon heat, guitar cradled in his arms and Andy's fingers light on his elbow, Eddie wanted to curl up with him and sleep like two puppies in the summer sun. Once he'd mustered up a little more energy, he'd want to do a few more things than that.

"All right," Eddie said. "We can try it and see."

Andy grinned like he'd won the whole war by himself.

* * *

Captain Wells formally handed Eddie his commission the next day, and Andy insisted on taking him out that same night. He even lent Eddie a spare uniform. It was too broad across the shoulders, and not quite long enough in the ankles, but it was better than the tattered ruins that were the only clothes Eddie currently had to his name. How Andy still had his sea chest, Eddie didn't know. Maybe it was the kind of thing that came with being an officer.

"Sorry it's not dress blues," Andy told him when he saw Eddie in his Marine greens. His hands hovered in front of Eddie's chest, as if he wanted to find something to tuck or correct, but Eddie was perfectly arranged already, new bars gleaming on his epaulettes. Andy beamed at him instead, seemingly delighted by the whole thing. "Come on, Lieutenant Jones, let's go find some trouble."

"How about we don't," Eddie countered, but he followed Andy easily enough, trying not to tug at his collar. There was a strange intimacy in wearing another man's clothing. It smelled like military issue soap and freshly pressed wool, but Eddie knew that the cloth rubbing against his skin had touched Andy's skin, and imaging that made him shiver and feel all the more sensitive to it.

There was a truck leaving for the rail depot soon, and they packed onto it with thirty other guys headed into town. They sat shoulder to shoulder, the only deference to Andy's rank being that he got the corner spot next to the tailgate. Eddie tried not to look at him as they bounced along, but his gaze kept sliding sideways. All the discipline about Andy that he'd been working on for the past five months seemed to have fallen away now that they were ashore again.

He wished they'd just decided to go somewhere they could fuck, instead of this whole dance of dinner out. Andy had said it would be safer if they kept to each other, but did they need this show of courtship? Eddie had already proved that he didn't need a man to so much as buy him a drink before he was more than willing to go along with whatever that man wanted to do to him. He shifted his legs, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard bench, and his thigh rubbed against Andy's.

"I was thinking we should stay in town," Andy said, loud enough for their neighbours to hear. "I don't imagine I'll want to try this ride six hours from now, when everyone's drunk and half of us are losing our dinner."

"All right," Eddie agreed, like it was nothing, like they weren't making an assignation in front of half a company of marines. "I'll go halves with you for a room."

"No, no," Andy countered. "It's your party, Lieutenant. I'm not letting you pay a dime."

"Ounce," Eddie muttered. He was trying to dredge up an old memory of a furlough in London many years ago, but the niceties of the currency had been lost to a haze of drink and sex.

"You got yourself a real high roller there, Hillbilly," the corporal beside him said. He was from King Company, and Eddie didn't remember his name.

Andy laughed and replied, "You earn a commission, Merton, and I'll buy you dinner too." This started a general comment on how cold hell would have to get from Merton's buddies, and Eddie didn't have to say anything at all.

There wasn't a lot more room on the commuter train than there'd been on the truck, and they both had to stand most of the way. Eddie longed for privacy, for this all to be over with so that he could just lose himself in Andy's touch, and shake the feeling that he was being bought somehow.

Andy didn't even hesitate leaving the central station in Melbourne, leading Eddie a few blocks up until they were in front of the Hotel Australia. Though the street lights were shaded, the sidewalks bustled with marines and civilians alike. Eddie hunched his shoulders and looked up at the stately building that wouldn't have been out of place in Boston or even Portsmouth. After so long in the jungle, all the the trappings of civilisation felt stranger than wearing another man's clothes. Laughter and women's voices, men in suits and hats, it all seemed like something from a world he'd only seen in the pictures.

"It's not an officer's club," Andy was explaining, as if none of this was unusual, not even the doorman ushering them in, "But it's near as I could find. Gentlemen only." He winked at that last, and Eddie understood the emphasis.

How the hell had Andy worked out the queer nightspots by his third day in a city he'd never been to? Eddie moved forward uneasily, feeling as though the whole battalion had him in its sights. Heat crawled up his neck as he followed Andy into the bar. It was all polished wood and gleaming brass, and the waiters wore uniforms that would put Eddie's dress blues to shame.

Eddie half expected Andy to suddenly know how to speak French like this was some movie, but the waiter had an Australian accent, and courteously settled them at a table in the back, away from the bustle of the room. Andy ordered champagne, then bartered down to some local equivalent when that turned out to be too strictly rationed.

It was only when he'd gotten settled that Eddie took in the other patrons. All men, like Andy had said, and many in uniform, but not all gentlemen, he didn't think. The press at the bar all crossed their legs like ladies and swished their wrists as they gestured at each other with pink gins in hand.

All Eddie could think of was the danger off it. He'd been taught that above all else a man couldn't risk being _seen_. Yet, here they were, obvious fairies, and here Eddie was with them. He'd always avoided this kind of bar for exactly this reason. Bath houses were bad enough, but at least that was for an obvious purpose, not just to show off what you could get away with.

He glanced at Andy, trying to gauge his reaction, but he was just smiling fondly at Eddie, not seeming to notice the rest of the room. He reached out across the table to take Eddie's hand, but Eddie didn't offer his own in return, no matter how much he wanted the steadiness of Andy's touch just then.

"It's okay here, Eddie," Andy said, but Eddie shook his head, folding his arms. Andy glanced down, and Eddie felt a pang that he'd caused a disappointment, but he couldn't help that. This place felt like lying next to the creek and knowing someone on the other side had a rifle levelled on you. "We'll just have a drink and go, okay?"

"Okay." Eddie nodded cautiously, and patted through his pockets for his smokes, only to find that he'd forgotten to transfer them from his dungarees. Of all the damn things. He decided that it would be more of a scene to get up and storm out after he'd been seated, and at this point a drink would do him good. Besides, he was hungry, and rationing or not, the menu had an array of food that he hadn't even considered in months. "We could stay for dinner," he said, but couldn't look up. It felt both like giving in, and being conditional about something meant as a gift.

Andy's smile melted him a little. He wanted to please Eddie so badly, it was just that they didn't know each other well enough to work out how to do that. Taking another careful look around the room, Eddie saw a few men holding hands, but none were in each other's laps or doing anything that could get a fellow arrested. Even the gaggle at the bar weren't wearing makeup or jewellery, as some men did in these places. Maybe it would be safe, at least enough to eat and leave. New men in the city, they couldn't be accused of knowing the kind of bar they'd wandered into. Eddie realised that he was putting more thought in how he would explain his circumstances to the MPs than he was into the man in front of him. He unfolded his arms, and smiled back tentatively.

Just then, the waiter came back with an entire bottle of wine, which he ceremoniously popped the cork off and poured a little for Andy to taste. Eddie wondered what would happen if Andy didn't like it. Would the waiter throw the bottle away? But Andy just nodded, and the man poured both shallow glasses full of sparkling straw-coloured wine. Andy was already ordering, and Eddie hadn't really thought and just picked something. He was glad he hadn't worked out the currency, and thus couldn't consider the expense as yet. Nothing was in French, and the food seemed ordinary enough.

Under the table, Andy brushed Eddie's ankle with the toe of his boondocker, and Eddie remembered what it'd felt like to have Andy's palms running up and down his legs. It wouldn't be long here, just dinner and a few drinks, and then Andy could get his clothes off.

"Wish we were going to the hotel first," Eddie said when the waiter had gone again.

"Yeah?" Andy asked. The toe of his boot traced up Eddie's calf, making Eddie spread his legs a little, just in case he wanted it to go higher. It didn't, just traced up and down in a lazy circle.

"You know you don't need to wine and dine me to get me into bed." Eddie had meant it as a joke, but his tone turned serious at the end, almost accusing. "Don't have to pay for the hotel room, neither."

Andy's foot dropped away from his ankle. His mouth tightened into a frown, and Eddie forced his face to stay cool, not show any sign that he was afraid of what Andy might say. What did it matter if Andy threw him over as being either ungrateful or too much trouble? Eddie could find someone in half an hour and get what he wanted without a hundredth of this fuss, and probably with less risk, no matter what Andy said.

"I never meant for you to feel obliged to me," Andy said, feeling out the words. He was tapping his nails on the edge of the table, and Eddie watched the steady beat of his fingers rather than his eyes. "I'm not... This isn't a payment. You're sending your pay home, you said, and I've got mine burning in my pocket, and I thought." He looked up at Eddie appealingly, his grey eyes begging Eddie to understand.

Problem was that Eddie didn't understand. He tossed back the wine, which was sour and had too many bubbles, and refilled the glass. Maybe once the alcohol hit his system, he'd be able to work out what Andy was dancing around.

Andy's nails rang down in order, smallest to largest, twice more, then stopped. He looked up suddenly, and said, "You're a very fine man, Lieutenant Jones, and I guess I thought you were worth taking the time to court."

Eddie was caught between heat at the bluntness of the compliment, and continued confusion at the distinction of courtship from a series of obligations imposed by one party to get the other party to spread his or her legs. Certainly the fellows were talking about finding Australian girls with a similar set of expectations about paying for meals and rooms, if not ones who would just take cash outright. "Seems like a lot of bother for something you're already getting," Eddie muttered.

"I'd say the odds of that are decreasing with every word," Andy replied, sounding waspish, but when Eddie looked up in sudden alarm, he held up both hands. "No, no. I'm talking about myself. Seems like I've been enough of an ass that you're about to throw me over, and I'd have it coming."

Some social rule probably suggested that Eddie ought to protest that he would never do such a thing, but he had just been thinking of doing exactly that, so he kept his peace.

Almost desperately, Andy leaned forward and said in a voice rough with intensity, "I don't want to seduce you, Eddie. I want to get to know you."

"Damn," Eddie said, then couldn't think of anything else, so he held his hand out, putting it palm up in the middle of the table. Andy took it. They smiled at each other.

He understood now. Andy had been through hell on that island, everything from losing so many of his boys, to getting malaria, to nearly being buried alive. Maybe his memories of that night in New Zealand had helped, maybe they hadn't, but now that they were back in the normal world, Andy wanted to feel normal. He wanted the romance he'd talked about in New Zealand. He wanted the little rituals and reminders that there was something out there worth fighting for, something more than just staying alive. He wanted to build up a new storehouse of tender moments and pretty memories, and he wanted Eddie to help him.

Eddie didn't think a hundred years of pretty lies could blot out the images of that place, but if Andy wanted to try, then Eddie didn't think he had it in him to say no. For all that this pretended life terrified Eddie, he didn't think he could stand to tell Andy that he couldn't have what he wanted, not when it really was as sweet as it was pathetic.

They were still holding hands and smiling when the waiter came back with their meals.

* * *

"I liked seeing you wear this," Andy said as he pushed Eddie's jacket off his shoulders. Rather, it was Andy's jacket. He started on the buttons of Eddie's blouse. "Been dying to see you out of it, too."

They'd managed to get the door closed before they started kissing, or maybe that was just Andy slamming Eddie into it. Eddie was still fumbling behind him to try to put the chain on. Andy's mouth on his, his fingers on his buttons, his thigh pushing up between Eddie's legs, they all conspired to drive every thought out of his head and the skill right out of his fingers.

This was the touch he'd longed for, dreamed of, cursed himself for wanting for months, and he couldn't think of much besides how much he wanted Andy's hands on every part of him.

Finally the chain clicked into place, and Eddie took hold of Andy's collar. He wasn't up to buttons, but he could pull them as close as he could and kiss the breath out of Andy. He understood now more than he ever had the saying about being one flesh. He wanted Andy to press into him until together they wiped out every single thing Eddie had ever felt beyond the pleasure of that moment. He wanted to be devoured.

Eddie tipped his head back, baring his throat for Andy to bite or kiss as he chose. Andy had his shirt open now and was running his hands up and down Eddie's chest like he'd never felt bare skin before. They were both moaning, and Eddie couldn't tell one voice from the other. Eddie thought he was saying that what Andy was doing with his lips on Eddie's pulse point was good, but Andy was murmuring incoherently as well. He was already pulling at Eddie's belt.

"Jesus," Eddie muttered as Andy dropped to his knees in front of him, yanking Eddie's pants down as he went.

He sucked Eddie off pressed right against the door, while Eddie clung to his shoulders and tried not to scream. After so long, any mouth on his cock would have felt like the touch of God, but Andy seemed to have remembered what he liked from all those months ago, how hard he wanted, it, the most sensitive places to roll his tongue against. When he could think at all, Eddie wondered if Andy had spent as many nights imagining this as he had.

When Eddie had come, and Andy had sucked him until he cried and protested, Andy stripped the rest of Eddie's clothes off and bent him over the bed. Andy was still mostly dressed, and his belt buckle dug into Eddie's ass as he fucked him. Andy hadn't taken much time about getting him ready, horny just from sucking Eddie off, and it was every bit as hard and rough as Eddie had remembered.

It was everything Eddie had wanted, and for those minutes, he let himself forget. For all Andy's oddness, Eddie trusted him in this, and knew that he would be safe if he surrendered to Andy's touch.

He couldn't think of anything save the stretch and burn of Andy's cock pounding into him, and the rest of his body seemed to fall away, his life drifting into the background. Eddie had never found this kind of completion and something like peace anywhere save when he let himself go like this. He knew he should be ashamed of that, and often he was, but it felt too good to turn away from that kind of pleasure, and so here he was, back again.

Later, they lay naked together, Eddie on his back, and Andy on his side leaning over him. Andy's movements lacked the intensity of earlier, but his attention hadn't waned.

"Haven't had a chance to look at you yet," he said, running his fingertips down Eddie's sternum.

"Not much to see," Eddie replied, and closed his eyes so he could just feel Andy's touch without watching him take in how much weight Eddie had lost, or his collection of barely healed lesions and jungle rot. He knew Andy was the same, everyone who'd served on the Canal for more than a month was, but he still wished he could offer Andy something better than this set of skin and bones.

He felt Andy's hand follow his ribs down to his side, where they paused at a snarl of skin. "What's this from?" Andy asked, probably imagining a bayonet charge or a bullet.

Eddie grimaced. "Would you believe that I fell on a sharp stick?" he asked. He had too, and it'd hurt so bad that he'd been afraid that an ignoble stumble would be the end of him.

Andy chuckled, and his hair brushed against Eddie's belly as he dropped his head to kiss the place, breath puffing more laughter against his skin. "Did you get your Purple Heart for that?"

"Not for that," Eddie told him. "Wouldn't let the corpsman write me up. Got one later for that." He touched his hip, which was still pink and raw, not quite healed. Nothing healed on that damn island. "Ricochet."

"God," Andy breathed, and kissed that spot as well. "I worried about you every time you went out. Knew I shouldn't, but..."

He was running his hands up and down Eddie's thighs now, which was making it hard to think. Eddie knew he should say that he'd worried about Andy too, which he had, but the question overriding all that was nearer to his heart, and in the elation at Andy's touch, he let it slip out, "Why me?"

Andy stopped moving, and laid his cheek on Eddie's stomach for a moment before he asked, "Fishing for a compliment, Hillbilly?" Eddie could feel Andy's cheek tighten in a smile, but his voice sounded serious.

"Just trying to get to know you," Eddie answered without opening his eyes. He groped until he found Andy's hair and combed his fingers through it. It was damp with exertion but still smooth and very soft.

"Why not you?" Andy asked, but then seemed to understand that wasn't enough of an answer. "Who better than you? You're handsome, and graceful, and we're good together in bed. I like looking at you. I like listening to your voice, like listening to what you have to say, when I can get you to talk, that is. You're brave, love your boys, think on your feet. A good man, and a good marine. I don't know anyone I'd rather it be, besides you."

"Oh," Eddie said. His hand froze in Andy's hair, curling just at the back of his neck. He thought he could lie like that forever: Andy's head resting on him, honeyed words pouring from his lips. "Ma always said to be careful of flatterers."

Andy laughed and crawled back up the bed so that he could say into Eddie's ear, "There's no pleasing you is there? If I don't sweet talk you, you wonder what my motives are, when I tell you what I'm thinking, you decide they're just flattery." His teeth caught Eddie's earlobe and worried at it before biting down hard enough to make Eddie gasp. "Maybe this is all just to get you into bed. Have you thought of that?"

"You're a hell of a threat to my innocence, and that's a fact," Eddie agreed. He rolled on his side so that he could kiss Andy, finally opening his eyes. Andy was smiling again, but a thread of anxiety pinched the corners of his eyes, not laughter. "If I'm not careful, you'll seduce me." Eddie kissed Andy before he could say something smart in answer to that, and then let Andy roll him on his back and show him how deep his depravity went.

* * *

After the first week, Battalion began to make it clear that it expected at least its officers to show up for duty occasionally, and furthermore Andy indicated that being a company commander came with a fair bit of paperwork. Even so, they got passes most weekends. Andy decided that he wanted to explore as much of the state as he could with however many rations of gasoline they could scrounge. They started out with Melbourne itself, and the festival life in the town of St. Kilda, which reminded Eddie a little of Coney Island, and then spread to the beaches along the coast to the east.

After that first night, Andy hadn't tried to pull Eddie into the company of other queers, and Eddie responded with silent gratitude and doubled enthusiasm in bed. He knew this southern summer fling couldn't last forever, but he wanted to keep Andy just for himself for as long as he could. Eventually, the First Marine Division would be ready to fight again, and that would be the end of it, but until then, Eddie planned to hold on to every moment.

The waters off of Victoria's shores didn't have the bathwater heat he'd felt on the Canal, but they were plenty warm for swimming. Andy said they reminded him of the beaches off Massachusetts, then stripped naked and frolicked in the waves like a seal, daring Eddie to come with him, until he gave in. Eddie had always loved the freedom of being in the water, and they twisted around each other until the waves tumbled them back onto the sand.

Christmas passed, and New Years. Their bodies healed, and Eddie's affections became more entangled by the day. It was easier not to think of the Solomons when he could look at Andy and admire him, and when Eddie woke in the night, forgetting where he was, Andy's touch was right there to call him back to himself.

They were sitting near the edge of a cliff, about a month in, watching the last curve of the sun vanish into the clear line between sea and sky. It flashed green just at the last second, and Eddie took Andy's hand, trying to remember if you were supposed to make a wish on that or not. Old sailors said one thing or another about it being lucky to see.

Andy squeezed his hand, and leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. It was getting cold already, but the warmth of Andy's arm pressed against his made it difficult to move.

Eddie wished this moment could last forever. Then, realising he'd been selfish, wished that Andy would survive the war. He didn't think the second one would count though, as much as superstitions ever did. He'd have to wish on another sunset.

"Eddie?" Andy asked.

"Mmm?"

"What was your first time like? With a man, I mean."

"Getting fucked, you mean," Eddie corrected, amused at how delicate Andy could be for a marine. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity, I suppose," Andy said, but Eddie didn't believe it. There was intent here, and when Eddie had been quietly watching the sunset enjoying his lover's company, Andy's brain had been whirring away at something. On Eddie's continued silence, Andy added, "It doesn't matter. You don't have to tell me."

"I'll tell you." But instead of saying anything else, Eddie pulled away from Andy and pushed himself to his feet. "Let's go back before it gets too dark, and you fall over a cliff without ever hearing it."

Andy let Eddie pull him up after him, and then didn't let go of his hand all the way back to the jeep. They'd decided to camp out, and had set up a tent earlier. Eddie wasn't sleeping on hard ground for anyone other than the Marine Corps, and had lifted the mattresses off a couple barracks cots, making a neat little nest for them.

Eddie wondered if he should try to distract Andy with sex, but he'd said he'd tell the story, and he might as well. It wasn't that it was anything bad, anyway, just that he'd never told any current lover about a past one. It was safer not to remember names or details.

He waited until they were both down to their skivvies and snuggled under the blankets together. They were curled up facing each other, knees brushing. "All right, the unexaggerated story of how one Edward Jones lost his virginity, age seventeen. Though how he hung onto it as long as that, I have no idea."

"I was sixteen," Andy told him.

"You said, always have to be ahead of me. 'Cept when you're behind me." Eddie kissed Andy because he laughed even at that terrible joke, but didn't let himself get carried away. "It was summer, and a company man was in town. He was older, hard to tell how much looking back. To me, back then, he was the most—the most dashing thing I'd seen outside of the pictures. He was a big man, and had dark hair and brown eyes, and I felt something as soon as I saw him."

"Something here?" Andy asked, amused, brushing his hand over Eddie's dick.

"Pretty well," Eddie admitted, "but I never knew what to make of those feelings, 'cept the preacher said they would land you in hell. Anyhow, he was only in town for a week, was doing some pit head survey, and needed a local to show him around. They took me on for a dollar a day, long as he was there. That was a lot of money then, well, you remember what it was like." Though maybe Andy didn't. Eddie carried on before Andy could tell him that his family had always had food on the table in the 'Thirties. "Guess he saw how I was looking at him and worked out what I wanted before I did. We spent a lot of time just by ourselves walking the backwoods, or in his car, and he started talking about how men could lie together, then he started touching me. Maybe it weren't right, him being the bossman and all, but all I knew was that I wanted more. He took me that first time on a blanket in a meadow. He said it might hurt, but it didn't really. I felt like I was floating, the sun on me, and his hands everywhere. I remember how the click of the grasshopper wings seemed like they were on every side of me." He stopped. That had probably been more detail than Andy had wanted. Or maybe not. Did Andy want him to go into detail, as some kind of turn on? As fond as the memory was, the conversation felt too close, leaving Eddie exposed.

"Did he stay long after that?" Andy asked, his hands had tightened on Eddie's but he didn't sound upset or disgusted.

"Naw, he left the day after the next, but we were together a few more times before he did. He also explained how it worked."

"Sounds like he did more than explain," Andy said, and Eddie could hear his smile.

"Not that! He told me how to find other men, where to look, how to keep from getting hurt, what could happen to a young man alone. That kind of thing." Eddie thought about those hushed conversations in the dark. They hadn't been so different from these. "I wasn't stupid enough that I didn't know not to tell anyone, but he made sure it would be secret. He made sure I knew what people would say about what we did, and he told me all the ways a man could get caught, and what they'd do to you if they did. Scared the life out of me, then, but I was grateful for it later. Kept me out of some real trouble a few times."

Andy's breath had quickened and his hands were so tight on Eddie's that they started to hurt, but he didn't say anything at all, just growled low in his throat.

Eddie ran back over what he'd said, but couldn't work out what was wrong in it. He sighed, and leaned over to kiss Andy in silent apology for whatever it was he'd said to upset him, but Andy turned his face away. "It was a long time ago," Eddie said, almost pleading, "and a world away." He would say he was sorry, but he didn't know what he should be sorry for. He didn't think Andy minded that he'd had other lovers. He could hardly complain on that score. Was it that Eddie was still fond of that first man? But Andy had written his first beau all through senior year, he'd said.

"That son of a bitch taught you to be ashamed." Andy's voice was growling, almost lethal, like he was talking about the Japs. "He...." Andy broke off and rolled over so that he was on top of Eddie.

He cradled Eddie's face between his hands, and even though it was too dark to see more than silhouettes, and Andy was too heavy on top of him, Eddie felt a glow in his chest at Andy's possessiveness. Even if he hadn't worked out what the fuss was, Andy was angry on his behalf, and Eddie loved him for that.

They were kissing now, Andy fierce and demanding, Eddie happy to be going with something understood better than talking. Andy fucked him on his back so that they could keep kissing, even if it wasn't as hard and deep as Eddie liked. They made a mess of the blankets, but Andy wouldn't let go long enough for Eddie to get up and try to clean them. Instead they spooned up together with Andy's arms tight around him, like he was worried Eddie would vanish in the night. Andy was still panting, but he rested his face against the back of Eddie's neck and held his lips there in an endless kiss.

Where had this sudden urge to claim Eddie come from? Eddie couldn't argue with the results, but Andy's flare of temper unsettled him. He seemed to be judging something Eddie had told him in a moment of honesty, picking over a sacred memory and finding that it didn't hold up to inspection. Eddie knew he was far from perfect, certainly not as good a man as Andy, but he'd rather not have his nose rubbed in it.

He liked it better when they didn't say anything at all.

Andy was holding him still, and that was all right. Eddie had just started to relax and think maybe it had all passed when Andy leaned in enough to whisper, "You don't have to be afraid."

It took Eddie a moment to think back about what. So that was it, the lessons the company man had given him. "Sure I do," he answered. He didn't want a fight, but he was tired of Andy treating him like he knew better about everything, when really, it was Eddie who'd seen a good deal more of the world. "And you could stand to be more afraid too. Some days, it seems like you think we're normal, that no one'll care if they find out."

"Eddie..." Andy started to say, stroking Eddie's chest like he was trying to placate him. "It's not like that. Of course I don't want the Corps to know, but other people, people like us, once you got to know them, you'd understand that they—"

But Eddie was tired of that too, tired of being calmed. Things could be so good with Andy, but sometimes it seemed like he was from a whole other world. "Suppose it don't matter so much to you," he continued, resentment building, and an ugly need to push back at Andy building in him, like it had in the jungle. He was glad he couldn't see Andy's face this time. "Assuming you get out with our balls still on, you got a place to go back to where they'll take you in. What do you think'd happen to me if I got a blue ticket? Or worse. My family's counting on the pay I send home to put food on the table. Better the Japs get me, then at least Ma'd get my life insurance."

Behind him, Andy stopped breathing for a moment, his hands froze on Eddie's skin. Then his chest hitched like he was holding something in, and exclamation, or maybe a sob. "Jesus Christ. No, Eddie," he whispered, but he didn't say anything else for a moment.

Eddie was glad, he was nearly too angry to stay there, but he knew he'd regret leaving. Besides the wind off the sea being cold, and not having anywhere to go that wouldn't leave Andy without the jeep. Eddie considered pulling the top up and just sleeping there. He would if Andy said one more damn word, he decided.

"If anything happened, I'd look after you," Andy said, voice small.

"Fuck," Eddie spat decidedly. He wriggled out of Andy's hold, groped around until he found his clothes, muttering, "I don't know what you think I am, but this ain't The Ziegfeld Girls, Andy. I know you like dressing me up and taking me to fancy places, and always paying, makes you feel big, maybe in a way that fucking me don't, but I ain't some piece of trash for you to _improve_." At that last he yanked the tent open and stomped buck naked into the night.

"Eddie," Andy called after him, but Eddie wasn't going to listen.

He didn't know why he'd put up with Andy's foolishness for as long as he had. Rather he did know, but he ought to have better sense. He dressed quickly in the dark, and wondered if he could find some way to hitch a ride back to the city, leaving Andy and the tent to their own devices. Problem was that gas rationing made these backroads almost silent, especially at night, and everyone had their headlights shaded even when they were driving. He could walk, he supposed, make as much way as he could, but he didn't think there was much sense wandering around in the dark with that much of a mad on. Besides, Andy would only follow him, needing to make sure Eddie was all right, and then they'd both be as lost as sheep and just about as stupid.

He got the top up on the jeep by feel, crawled into the driver's seat, and slammed the door. He felt a small, bitter rush of satisfaction imagining Andy worrying that Eddie would drive off without him, then felt shame just as soon. It wasn't even Andy's fault, not really, it was Eddie's for letting him in under his guard, for letting Andy think that Eddie could be kept, for letting this turn into something more than it should have been. Maybe this was why that company man had warned him about letting any one man get too close.

Eddie shifted in the jeep, but there wasn't really any comfortable way for a man of his height to rest in it. He was too angry to sleep anyway. It would be a long night of mulling over his own mistakes and an even longer drive back to the camp in the morning. Lord, he was a fool.

The tent canvas rustled, and Eddie squinted through the dark. He could see Andy moving, but no detail of posture or expression. Andy came over to the jeep, dressed only in his skivvies, and crouched down in front of the door, waiting for Eddie to open it, or at least roll down the window. He had something dark in his hands.

Eddie sighed and popped the door open. He knew Andy well enough to know that he'd just sit there all night if he didn't.

"For Christ's sake, at least take this," Andy said and thrust a folded blanket into the jeep.

Eddie took it, nodding thanks, though he doubted Andy could see it.

"I don't think you want to hear much from me tonight," Andy said, and Eddie considered slamming the door, but he'd already stormed around like a child enough for one night. "But I wanted you to know that I don't think you need improving, and I wouldn't change you even if I thought I had the power to do it."

"Andy," Eddie started, but Andy had said his bit and was already standing, and turning away, going back to the tent. Like their entrapment under the fallen tree, he seemed to think this was a situation best dealt with in the light of day. "Fuck," Eddie muttered and pounded the steering wheel with the fist that wasn't clutching the blanket.

Eddie unfolded the heavy green wool and spread it over top of himself, then settled into the seat as best he could and stared up at the canopy. "Fuck," he said again, more loudly. Probably loudly enough for Andy to hear over in the tent.

They'd had a good thing going on, certainly the best and most reliable sex Eddie had ever found, and more than that: someone who saw him as a marine, and as man and knew about the shameful side of him too. Someone who he could talk to, and who made him laugh. If Eddie had just kept his damn trap shut and played along, they could have kept this going all summer, and no harm done.

Sure, there'd have been a little more sulking than last time when they'd gone back onto the line, a little more missing Andy's touch, but there'd have been more memories too, and none of the bitterness and regret he was feeling right now.

Eddie should go back, literally crawl back, to Andy and say he hadn't meant any of it, do or say whatever it took to make Andy take him back. Sucking Andy off usually did the trick when there was tension between them. He could make Andy forget his own name, let alone any little disagreement they might have had.

Problem was that Eddie was too much of a stubborn bastard, and he had meant what'd he'd said. He'd been wanting to say exactly that since that first night at that hotel bar in Melbourne. If he regretted not holding his tongue, he'd regret eating his words even more. Maybe it was so much stiff-necked pride like Ma said. Maybe he could change into whatever it was that Andy would like best—no matter what he said—Eddie would be a better man for it.

But he wasn't going to change, and he supposed that this was the end of one of the best things he'd had going. Damn if it wasn't going to be an awkward drive back though.

Eddie didn't sleep much that night, and woke to the rising sun glaring off the windshield and a crick in his neck.

He lit a smoke without opening his eyes and burned through half of it before he decided that he was ready to face up to the last night's idiocy.

Andy was up already, making coffee over a small fire. Eddie hummed a line of "Waltzing Matilda," and watched Andy move around their camp. He was making a point of not looking at the jeep. He was also making enough coffee for two.

Sighing, Eddie opened the door and rolled to his feet. He saw Andy's movements catch as the door clicked, but he didn't turn. Eddie stretched and padded barefoot over to the tent. He supposed he should count himself lucky he hadn't stepped on one of those lethal snakes they had here. There was a scorpion in his boondocker when he shook it out. It scuttled away and hid under the edge of the tent. Eddie could sympathise.

"Morning," Eddie said so Andy wouldn't have to gauge his mood. He held out his hand for a tin mug of coffee, and Andy gave him one without saying anything. It was too hot to drink yet, but Eddie scalded his mouth trying it. It woke him up some, anyway.

"Morning," Andy replied. He glanced sideways at Eddie, but then turned his mind to putting the fire out. "Thought we could eat when we got back to camp."

"Okay," Eddie said, then sucked his teeth. This was going to be more painful than the tour he'd spent sharing a cabin with a hypochondriac. He couldn't tell if it would be better to talk now, or wait until the jeep was almost at the camp, and he could escape if he needed to. Hell, the jeep was better by virtue of not having the least idea right now of what he was going to say. He didn't know if he should apologise and ask that Andy forget the whole thing, or cut his losses and tell Andy it was over. That would be a melodramatic overreaction to a small argument, but they'd only argued because he and Andy were just too different for this to work.

Eddie took another swallow of the scalding coffee, enjoying the way the burn cut down his throat. It was high summer here, and already the sun was warming the land. Eddie looked out over the gleaming sea and decided he'd just let it be, not say anything. If Andy was so invested, he could work out what to do. Knocking the coffee back in two burning gulps, Eddie went to break down the tent.

Andy silently put away the pots and mugs then helped fold down the tent. He wasn't talking either, and Eddie missed the easy conversation of days past. He should have thought of that before he pitched a fit over nothing the night before.

Dumping the tent in the back of the jeep, Eddie walked around to the passenger side and pulled the door open, watching Andy to see if he was going to want to do anything else before they left. From the way Andy was watching him, Eddie would bet that his thoughts were treading similar circles. Eddie knew he was being judged, the value of what he could give Andy weighed against how much trouble he was, and if Andy could get someone better who would put up less argument. Eddie took his hand off the door and folded his arms, lifting his chin in a challenge.

That seemed to shake something loose in Andy, who walked around the jeep and stood just by the headlight, the door between them.

"Eddie," he said. He seemed to like the way it sounded in his mouth, because he repeated Eddie's name, before saying, "I think we'd better talk now, where we have the space for it." Eddie nodded cautious agreement. If this was going to be bad, maybe it was better to get it over with. "I want us to be together," Andy said with that painfully simple sincerity he could employ like a trench knife to the throat. "I think you want that too, most days, but it seems like I keep pissing you off. I'd rather talk now than have you up and decide that what we have isn't worth the bother."

The advantage, as Eddie saw it, to never knowing your lovers' names was that they never expected you to explain yourself. He felt cornered by Andy's honesty as he had by his judgement the night before. "What do you think we have, Andy?"

Andy folded his arms, mirroring Eddie, frustration evident. "A courtship, a friendship, a partnership? Whatever you want to call it when two people spend all their time together with a view to... to...." he petered out, and Eddie narrowed his eyes. "Dammit, Eddie, you were the one who talked about walking out with you."

"Christ, I was joking!" Eddie snapped back, and the heat in his voice made Andy flinch. "You said it would be safer when you wanted someone to fuck."

"You think..." Andy was close to shouting, and he forced himself to take a breath and ask in a lower tone. "Do you think that's all you are to me? A convenience?"

Eddie wanted to say that he did, it would put this all to a clean end, once and for all. It would make his life so much less complicated. He'd seen a hundred opportunities to meet men when he'd been at St. Kilda or walking through Melbourne's parks. Problem was, Andy already looked so hurt. He was trying not to show it, but Eddie could see the paleness under his tan, and how the corners of his mouth had tightened. Eddie's gut clenched at the shame of it, and he couldn't lie.

"Don't rightly know what I am to you," he said. "Sometimes, I think it's just what you said, but you go too far for that to be true. You don't have to be so kind, if all you wanted me to do was bend over for you, I'd do that anyway, but you are kind, or try to be. Maybe you're not always careful, and sometimes you... you decide things without asking me, but you don't try nothing twice if I've said I don't like it."

"That's not—" Andy started to say, then cut himself off again. Strange that Eddie could make someone so naturally eloquent almost speechless, and not by getting on his knees. "Jesus, Eddie, you have to know that—no, I guess you don't." He looked down, cheeks flushing all of a sudden, and when he glanced up at Eddie there was so much hesitation in his eyes that Eddie wanted to pull Andy close and hold him until he understood that whatever Eddie did, he didn't mean to hurt him.

"I don't understand you," Eddie whined, angry at how this kept seeming to end up being his fault, for not understanding, for not wanting the same thing as Andy. "You treat me like I'm your girl, like you're thinking of buying a damn ring, but you're not a stupid man. You have to know how this'll end."

"And how will it end?" Andy asked, still low, but at least he sounded like he knew the answer now.

Eddie shrugged. "Either one of us'll get it, or one of us'll be reassigned, or the war will end, and you'll go home and I'll stay in."

"And that's it?" Andy demanded. He took a step towards Eddie, his knee banging into the open door of the jeep. "That's all you want?"

"Guess it is," Eddie answered, but knew it for a lie even as he'd said it. Maybe before Andy it'd never occurred to him to want more than pure carnal satisfaction, or to even consider that anything like romance was a possibility. He'd known when he'd signed up at nineteen that he'd be facing a life of service with pleasure snatched where he could find it, and he hadn't minded it. Being at sea for so long had a special kind of tedium, but he'd liked the men, and there'd always been willing partners in port, letters from home, small pleasures found where they could be. He'd thought to give his life to it, or at least stick by it until the youngest could fend for themselves. What did Andy think Eddie was going to do? Give up a job that now paid more than he'd make even in the mines, and go be what, his kept boy? He could tell by the crumpled look on Andy's face that he'd never ask Eddie to do that. He'd meant it when he said he didn't mean to presume, or to try to change Eddie. Maybe it just hadn't sunk in until now what that meant.

For a terrible moment, Eddie thought that Andy was going to cry, there in broad daylight, looking him in the face. Instead, he took a long ragged breath, and looked at Eddie with a smile so false it looked cut out of the funny pages and pasted on. That too only lasted for a moment before Andy just gave up and let himself look miserable.

"Better you know now," Eddie told him, but he didn't believe it. It had been better when he was letting Andy pretend. There'd been no real harm in it for Eddie past the odd moment of annoyance, and Andy seemed to need to do it. But then, maybe that would have just been leading him on, being some kind of tease by letting Andy think they had a future.

"It doesn't matter," Andy insisted, but now he was lying too. "We'll still have the rest of this summer. That is, if you're willing."

Eddie took the top of the door in both hands and leaned in to kiss Andy. "You know I'm always willing," he said just before their lips met, and he didn't let Andy answer.

He wished that winning an argument felt better than it did, but at least Andy was still willing to keep going day by day.

* * *

It was quiet most of the ride home, and for the next week too. The Fifth Marines were training again, trying to integrate the replacements that kept pouring in and get the combat vets back in fighting shape. The following weekend was taken up with marching to hell and gone, junior officers on battalion staff not in the least spared.

But Friday afternoon of the next week, Andy found Eddie just as he was leaving Battalion HQ, and said low into his ear, "Will you let me take you dancing?"

Eddie had no interest in watching Andy twirl pretty girls around a dance floor, even if going out and finding a band might be fun, and said as much.

"No," Andy said, "Dancing with _you_."

"Andy," Eddie growled warningly. They were walking across a field and no one could be within earshot, but they'd talked about this already.

"Nowhere that'll get raided," Andy promised. "Not even in the city or St. Kilda, a private home, just a few dozen couples, records on the gramophone, champagne, dancing. I promise you it's safe."

Eddie waffled. He felt guilty as hell for the fight on their last weekend together, especially at how personally Andy had seemed to take all, but he did think he'd gotten his point across, and if Andy promised there was no risk, Eddie was inclined to believe him. Besides, dancing with Andy sounded nice. "All right. Where'd you hear about this?"

"Another follow, over in Second Battalion, we went to Quantico together."

At least Andy was leaving out damn names, but it hadn't occurred to Eddie that anyone else would know about Andy, and that if they knew about Andy, then Eddie would be obvious. "MPs could roll up the whole goddamn lot of us," he muttered. There'd like as not be other marines at the party, and if Eddie recognised them, or even their companies, then he'd have that over them, and they'd have it over him.

"I trust him," Andy said, as if that made a difference when a guy was getting pounded on while someone asked for names. Problem was it was too late.

"You trust too many people," Eddie grumbled, but added on Andy's frown, "I said I'd go, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did." Andy beamed at him, and Eddie felt guilty preemptively.

Eddie's sea chest had found him the month before, and he'd spent an evening picking apart and resewing the jacket of his dress blues so that they matched the specifications for an officer, but hadn't had a chance to wear them before that evening.

He'd never seen Andy in his. He looked like a damn recruitment poster, though one that was showing five o'clock shadow even though he'd shaved not half an hour ago. Eddie looked him up and down, whistled appreciatively, and wondered if they could skip dancing and just go find a room somewhere. From the gleam in Andy's eyes, he had a similar idea in mind.

They caught a ride into town, changed trains for another suburb north of the city, before walking several blocks through darkened streets. Andy had been right about the party being out of the way. They were alone in the darkened streets, and Eddie fell into step along side Andy, glad that he seemed to be pretending their disagreement hadn't happened. It hadn't taken a week apart to make a point of how much Eddie enjoyed just being near Andy.

It was only 1800 when they arrived, but the sprawling Victorian was already full. Some Australian civilians, some diggers, a handful of American soldiers and marines, though none that Eddie knew by sight, thank God. Eddie relaxed a little.

The hosts shook their hands and accepted Andy's bottle of bourbon. Eddie was pointedly trying not to remember faces, but noticed them as a pair of older women, one in a three-piece suit with her hair tucked up, and the other in a sparkling black dress that didn't cover her knees. Andy was smooth-talking them about how it was a beautiful house, and so nice of them to take in some lonely Americans. Eddie escaped to the side table and poured himself a drink.

Through a doorway, the furniture in the living room had been pushed back and an Andrews Sisters record filled the room. Eddie sipped his whiskey and watched men sway with men and women with women. He'd thought he saw a few mixed couples, at first glance, but then decided that some were crossdressing. If they did get raided, there would be hell to pay for the lot of them.

"Would you care to join them?"

A silver haired man in civvies had drifted up to Eddie's elbow. He had the sort of English accent that well to do Australians had, and an acquisitive gleam in his eye. Eddie looked him over in turn. He was older, maybe forty, but still strongly built. A year ago, Eddie would have suggested they skip the dancing and get right to it.

"Or there are bedrooms upstairs," the gentleman added.

It would be so easy. Eddie had known it would be that easy here, it usually was for a handsome young marine, and the bars on his shoulders only put better bait on the hook. Even imagining the look on Andy's face felt like a punch to the chest. "Preciate the offer, sir," he said, and raised the glass in a half toast, "but my first dance is spoken for."

"That's the problem with all these beautiful Yanks in town," the man said. "Half the time, they seem to end up with other Yanks."

Eddie had long ago given up on trying to explain that the term Yankee very much did not apply to him. He made a point of looking the man over again and offered him a consolatory smile. "I'm sure you'll find someone, sir."

The man looked pretty sure he would, too, but he still reached out and patted Eddie's upper arm and murmured, "You're a sweet boy. So polite."

"Trying to pick up the visitors again, Walter?" A boy about Eddie's age slipped under Walter's arm, neatly tucking himself against his side so that Walter's arm was now over his shoulders. It was a move too practised to be entirely improvised. He was wearing the drab uniform of the Australian army, some kind of enlisted man, Eddie thought.

"Not doing terribly well at it, darling," Walter replied. He didn't sound caught out, but pulled the younger man more tightly against him, a gesture of reassurance or possession, Eddie couldn't tell.

"Davie," the boy said, holding out his hand. Eddie shook it, annoyed by the softness of his grip.

"Eddie," he replied, glad they were sticking to Christian names. "Seems like you've found your dance partner," he added to Walter.

"Oh, no, I'm terrible," Davie said, "better for Wally's feet if he tries some fresh meat now and then."

Eddie gathered that more than dancing was meant, and wanted to ask how a brat like Davie could stand his fellow's wandering eye, but he didn't want any part of whatever this was. Rather, he wondered what it would be like to be caught in the middle of them in one of those upstairs bedrooms. He was being good, and they ought not to be tempting him.

Where was Andy? Eddie glanced back, and found he was still chatting with their hosts, outgoing, friendly, the warmth of his expression something Eddie hadn't seen much in the last few weeks. Eddie remembered Andy saying on that first morning after that sometimes a man just had to be with his own kind. Was Andy lonely when Eddie monopolised his attention? Was Eddie isolating him?

"That your fellow talking to Vic and Irene?" Walter asked, following Eddie's gaze.

"Sometimes," Eddie said, not wanting to commit Andy to anything. "Came here with him, anyhow."

"Maybe he wants to dance," Davie said, and Eddie could tell that all Davie wanted to do was tug a shark's tail, but he couldn't help the indignation rising in him at the thought of Andy and Walter—or Andy and anyone else—swaying together to soft, slow jazz, let alone going upstairs together. If Eddie stuck to his claim that they were together because it was safer than anonymous sex in parks or tearooms, then it followed that Andy was free to go with any man who caught his eye here at a closed party, and Eddie shouldn't mind it, because he had no claim on Andy, and Andy had none on him.

"I prefer not to box for my dinner," Walter said mildly, taking in Eddie's expression. "Beautiful young men arriving already paired off isn't quite the thing, I must say. Doesn't give us old codgers a chance."

Eddie ground his teeth. He ought to say that Walter was free to ask, and it wasn't any business of Eddie's, but he took a sip of his drink instead. On contemplation, he finished it, figuring he'd need the buzz if he was going to last ten minutes here. "Do Vic and Irene have many parties like this?" he asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from who was dancing with whom.

"Oh, one or two a month," Walter waving vaguely around the room. "Not much sense having a house like this if one doesn't fill it with bright young things, or that's what Vic tells me. Irene likes to play matchmaker and run everyone's lives for them."

They'd known each other a long time, Eddie thought, wondering at the familiarity and easy confidences of Walter's description. How many parties had this house seen? How many years of friendship? Were they risking all that by opening it to prying Americans? "It's good of you to have strangers," Eddie said.

"Walter's not the only one who likes to have fresh meat around," Davie quipped.

Walter looked at Davie with a hint of reproof in his eyes, but only said, "It's the least we can do for men who fought in the Solomons, throw a little welcome party, show you there's a country here that's not the bathhouses at St. Kilda. Besides, people of our sort ought to stick together, safety in numbers, eh?"

Before Eddie could say that'd never been his experience, he felt Andy's hand at the nape of his neck, warm and reassuring. Eddie leaned back a little, grateful for the re-enforcement.

"Numbers?" Andy asked. "I hope you were planning to let Eddie dance with me before you lured him up to the orgy."

"I wasn't," Eddie started to protest, but then understood that Andy was joking, and changed course to, "wasn't planning to let you keep me waiting much longer."

Andy's hand tightened on his neck, and Eddie almost purred at the implied possessiveness. Maybe he should have taken Walter up on that dance, just to see what Andy would have done. He hated that contrariness in him—to insist at one moment that they had no hold on each other, and the next that Andy of all people ought to play the jealous lover.

"We'd better dance, then," Andy said, and he took Eddie by the hand and led him into the next room, only just giving Eddie enough time to set his empty glass down. "You want to lead?"

"I can follow," Eddie said, though he never had. They laughed as they both tried to take the wrong hand, and then both started on the same foot, but as the girl changing the records got onto "Moon Over Burma," everything clicked, and the backwards steps started to make sense in Eddie's head. Andy was a graceful dancer, and moved easily to the rhythm of Dorothy Lamour's voice, and it was nothing to follow him.

It was strange to have Andy this close in public, the whole party seeing them as a couple. Andy's hand rested on the small of Eddie's back, like he stroked down his spine as they lay in bed together. He was smiling at Eddie with all that old fondness, as if Eddie were the greatest gift he could hope for, and just getting to dance with him was unaccountable good fortune. Eddie couldn't keep himself from smiling in response, though he still felt the eyes of the others hot on his neck.

"This is nice," Andy commented with a depth of contentment that Eddie didn't have the heart to put down.

It seemed like Eddie could explain as many times as he liked that this whole thing between them was only a temporary state of affairs, and Andy would still keep nosing back into his attention, like a lost pup trying to find warmth under his master's blanket. Eddie had not only told Andy off the week before, but made him sleep alone, and all Andy had done in response was ask Eddie out dancing the first chance he got.

"You like a challenge, don't you?" Eddie asked. He'd wondered for so long why him out of all the men Andy could have had, but it was only just sinking in that Andy liked to chase just as much as Eddie liked to keep trying to put him off. Or, Eddie admitted to himself for the first time, as much as Eddie liked knowing that no matter how hard he shoved Andy away, he'd just circle back around from a new angle.

"I do if it's worth it," Andy admitted. "You usually are."

If Eddie stopped running, would Andy stop chasing? More importantly, if Eddie kept going, would Andy follow him to wherever the war landed them? Where did Eddie want it to land them? He'd said it had to end one of three ways, but what if it didn't?

"Penny for them?" Andy asked, clearly watching the gears grinding away in Eddie's head.

"Told you, you can't buy me," Eddie answered, but he leaned in until their chests were touching and the dance turned into something more like a shuffling embrace until the song ended.

"Never dreamed I could," Andy murmured, and kissed Eddie right there in front of the entire party. His mouth was tentative at first, but when Eddie's body stayed soft and relaxed against his, he deepened it into something more, his tongue brushing Eddie's teeth.

Maybe it was the terror of what they were doing that gave this its edge, but Eddie thought it was more likely to be the warmth of Andy's hand on his back and the knowledge that everyone looking knew that Andy was his, or that he was Andy's. Eddie hadn't worked that part out yet.

The song ended, there was a pause, and the record changed to swinging jazz. Andy pulled away, grinned at Eddie in a way that Eddie knew presaged a dare, and asked, "You jitterbug?"

"Nothing fancy," Eddie answered, and he took both of Andy's hands and held them between their bodies to give himself a little more room for blunders.

It was going to be too hot in their blues, but they could shuck their jackets later. Right now, Eddie's heart was beating to the rhythm of the drum, and Andy was, after everything, somehow still smiling at him.

They started to dance, and Eddie decided that there would be a better time to worry about endings.


End file.
